Remember Me Not

THIRTY - AFTER

We talk a lot on the way back to Elliot's dorm. I'm feeling better, at least: the nausea passes and my steps become more steady as my body begins to clear the alcohol from my system. Still, Elliot keeps one hand hovering behind my back, ready to act if I stumble once more. He might not be touching me, but it feels comforting all the same.

He asks me what happened today.

I don't want to tell him at first, because explaining myself means reliving the conversation with David all over again.

But it feels like it's important, and if there's anyone I trust not to pass judgement—about me or my whole situation—it's Elliot.

So I explain. And he listens. Quietly, patiently, like he'd give me all the time in the world if that was what I needed.

Maybe that's what I do need. Because it's harder than I expect to articulate what happened earlier, how it made me feel, why it's still haunting me hours later. If anything, it should be easier talking to Josh's brother. Someone with a connection that equals mine, who understands what it's like to know the person behind the article. Who understands how it feels to be torn between wanting to hang onto that charming, kind-hearted Josh we both knew, and wanting to discover the side he managed to keep hidden for so long.

"If I ask you a question, will you promise to answer honestly?" I say, once I've reached the end of my story.

Elliot nods. "Of course."

"Do you think I should've said yes?" I ask. The silence that follows stretches far too wide, and I find myself compelled to fill it. "To David, I mean. Does Josh deserve someone to tell the other side of the story? Or is it just insulting to everyone involved?"

He doesn't answer right away. Our steps fall quietly on the sidewalk, in time to the nervous pace of my heart. Then he speaks. "I think you did the right thing."

"Really?"

"You clearly wouldn't have felt comfortable doing so, and that should be answer enough," he says. "I guess, in theory, there's nothing wrong with wanting to share the Josh you knew. Honestly, I might be tempted by the same thing. But it also makes me uncomfortable... because it feels like I'd be trying to make up for something, counteract something. It feels like trying to pull the mask back on when it's already been torn off. It implies our experiences can't exist in parallel with the worst night of somebody's life."

His answer renders me speechless. Mostly because it makes so much sense, in a way I'm not expecting. The entire situation is so twisted and convoluted that simple explanations don't seem to exist. And yet Elliot's managed to put one right in front of me.

"So you don't think I'm betraying Josh?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all."

I let out a shaky breath: one that billows into a white cloud in the cold air. It's like the anticipation and relief are dancing in front of my face. "I don't know why it feels like such a huge relief to hear you say that, but it does."

"I think I know why."

My brow furrows. "Go on."

"Because you doubt yourself too much." He says it assuredly, but it doesn't come across as unkind. It's a matter-of-fact statement I can't even begin to argue with. "You're hurting, in the same way I'm hurting, and being back here on campus has reopened the wound in ways you didn't realize it would. You're worried that people are looking at you, judging you against some ideal of how you should be reacting, deducting points wherever it doesn't match up. And all of it was bad enough before, but the article changed everything."

I don't know how he's managed to put it into words. Except I do know, because when I stop walking and turn so I can look him in the eye properly, it's written all over his face. He knows, realizes, understands... because he's been living through the same hell too.

"I'm not saying it's exactly the same for me," he caveats. "Because I know you have your own memories and experiences. But, well... I'm willing to bet it's pretty close."

There's so much weight to his voice, so much sadness behind his eyes, that in that moment I'm slammed by a wave of guilt. I don't know how I've gone all this time without realizing it. For weeks, I've been so wrapped up in what I'm thinking and feeling that I haven't spared a single thought for how hard it might've hit Elliot, too. He's been an incredible friend in the short time we've known each other, and I'm not even sure I've managed the bare minimum in return. And suddenly I hate myself for it.

"Elliot—"

"I know what you're thinking," he says, before I can get any further. "And it's okay. Really."

"It's not okay, though. I never even asked—"

"Which is exactly what I needed," he tells me. "It doesn't do me any favors, talking about it all the time. I don't like spending time bringing myself down when I could be building somebody else up."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

He chuckles lightly, then shakes his head. "No. I swear."

"Well, you've done a lot for me these last few weeks," I say honestly. "I mean it when I say I don't know if I'd still be on campus without you. I think it would've gotten the better of me weeks ago. But I'm here, so... thank you."

We're still stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, having come to a gentle halt and not yet dared to move again. At this time of night, there's nobody around to see us, but it still feels strange—and a little dangerous. The atmosphere between us seems to grow more charged the longer our eye contact continues.

"You don't have to thank me, Morgan," he says. "I'd do it any time."

There's no doubt he means it: the sincerity is threaded through every word, drawn into the lines of his half smile. I don't have reason to question anything he says... and yet I still do.

Maybe it's like he said: I doubt myself. I've been doubting everything lately, and while that's probably something to do with my memory blackout the night Josh died, and the fact that I can no longer trust my own brain, the point still stands. As long as I feel like this, I'll struggle to trust anything around me—and that includes Elliot.

Of course I want him to be the friend I need, with no motive beyond kindness and the goodness of his heart. But there's also a part of me that won't fully believe it. That part questions why he would invest so much time and emotional labor into someone he'd just met, even if that someone did happen to be his late brother's girlfriend. Our first encounter happened by chance; it never had to go further. He could've severed the tie there and then, and we never would have come this far down the line.

But he didn't. And we have.

So now I'm here.

Feeling myself lean on Elliot more by the day, hoping I'll realize when to stop before it's too late.

--------------------

I'M BACK. Yes, hello, I'm here, and I want to apologise for the delay. The reason I went MIA is that I've had probably the most chaotic month of my life. We suddenly got the go-ahead on the house we've been in the process of buying since August, and after very little notice on a moving date, it was all systems go! A full month of shopping, packing, moving, painting and building more flat-pack furniture than I ever want to do again.

But I'm here -- sitting in my freshly decorated home office(!!) and bringing this new chapter to you.

What are you thinking about Morgan and Elliot's relationship? CUTE AF? Or verging on dangerous territory? I'd love to hear your thoughts...

I'll be back to a normal routine now with uploading chapters, so until next time...

- Leigh