Chapter Text
Asra always tells me not to think too much. To keep my focus on short, simple tasks and build up from there.
I don't know how.
How do you stop thinking? I can't even when I busy my mind with mundane tasks. My mind always comes back to the same topic, it seems it just can't stay away from it.
What's the most important thing?
What is something that nobody can live without?
Thing that makes things like oxygen, food seem insignificant....
Without what we are not longer human?
What is it that makes that difference?
Memory.
Something I desperately need.
What worth has each moment if it can disappear at any given time.
I don't know but my sheer curiosity is keeping me from giving up.
That and Asra's sad eyes. I shouldn't..but.... I want to remember. I don't know him but I don't want to disappoint him or be the cause for those eyes.
He's really....really.... persistent.
...
Persistent..?
Who's...really... pre....sistent?
What was I..... thinking.....?
.....
Where....where am I.... who...I....
...
"Brazen?"
...someone .....desperately...who..
Cacophony of noise, litany of despair.
..why...am I ..on the floor?..
"...Brazen?..Brazen?!...No, no, no,no,no,no,no,noo...."
All the grand plans disappearing like smoke.
..what is... happening why I can't even.....even..see...?...
"Listen to my voice, listen only to me....don't think...."
...wh..at...
"DON'T THINK!"
...no...ple..ase...
"...FORGET."
...Why..do I feel..like.... I don't want to?...
"FORGET!"
...
I see nothing. I hear nothing. I..
..know.....nothing...nothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothingnothing... ....nothing.
What am I?
"...Brazen?..Brazen...wa.ke up"
I hate the sound when somebody's voice breaks like that, because I know the feeling. I don't remember it but I'm still allowed to instinctively hate it. Small victories.
"..pl..ease..."
Even if I don't know that voice I can still feel empathetic toward the owner. Anybody would. I open my eyes. Well, at least I can see, even if I'm not sure I wanted to see such pure sadness on somebody's face.
"...Who are you?"
"..."
This is...not a good start.
"Who am...Why are you crying?"
"..."
And why are we sitting on the floor? But I don't feel that's the most important or appropriate question to ask at the moment.
"..Don't cry."
Please I don't know what to do.
"..."
It's kinda funny when hysterically sobbing person tries to calm down. Or smile. And by funny I mean so heartbreaking that you can only think about it as funny if you don't want to start crying as well.
"...I'm sorry....so...sorry.."
Phrase "new beginnings" suddenly don't carry the same optimism as in inspirational speeches. It sounds ominous if anything.
And now, he aggressively tries to wipe tears with his clothing but he will faster bruise his face than achieve the result I'm guessing his going for.
What should I do? Wait?
"..I don't know what happened and if I'm one of the people that you would accept such gesture from but..."
..Such situation requires taking some risks I guess. I hug him. Worst case scenario he will just push me away. But oh, he doesn't. He clutches me so desperately as if I was a lifeline and starts weeping into my shoulder so loud and brokenly that thought of him suffocating crosses my mind. I can only offer universal forms of comfort. It's frustrating.
"Everything will be okay. You don't have to worry."
He looks like he wants to die. I should shut up, it looks like every word coming from my mouth is a knife going through his heart. From the way he claws at the left side of his chest - quite literally. He tries time and again to compose himself enough to talk. It doesn't look like it will happen any time soon though, so I wait. I don't have any reason to hurry anyway...at least I think I don't.
Minutes trickle by and even if his broken spirit is still easily seen through his eyes, he calms down gradually. He looks at me with a broken smile and asks:
"I probably scared you didn't I? I'm sorry...but you're as compassionate as ever, huh?"
I can hear that he barely kept his voice from breaking on the last part of his utterance. As heartbreaking as it is I'm impressed.
"I wouldn't know."
Shit, shouldn't have said that. Why did I say that? He looks like crying. Again.
"..yeah, you wouldn't."
"What's your name?"
He looks at me so sadly and I'm starting to think that this is the way this man will always look at me.
"Asra, nice to meet you."
He musters something you could call a form of a smile.
"Nice to meet you too, but unfortunately you will have to do introductions on both sides."
I'm lamely trying to say something remotely funny. It's very obvious, but he's nice enough to let out small, kinda wet chuckle.
"Asra, nice to meet you Brazen." He corrects himself.
So my name is Brazen. I don't know yet whether I like it or not, but I smile anyway. He looks troubled but less broken.
"Let's get you up from this floor."
Great idea.