And yet... Here we are

The Snow

Jaskier woke in the morning when the sun creeped into the window and plastered warmth onto his face. He stirred slightly before he let his eyes flutter open slowly. He groaned as the light assaulted his eyes. Begrudgingly he sat up and looked around the room. The bed was empty except for him and the blanket that had fallen to pool at his waist. Confused, he squinted to look around the room in search for any sign he hadn't merely dreamt Geralt. 

He stood sluggishly. His feet thumped on the floor as he walked to the desk. He thumbed through his journal for a second. Jaskier didn't know exactly what he was looking for. Maybe he thought Geralt would have left him a note if he had disappeared. The bard grumbled when he saw nothing. 

Jaskier pulled his red trousers onto his legs and tucked in his undershirt. He fastened the top of the trousers. He pulled on his socks with a grumble before he grabbed his boots and slid them on. Carefully, he tucked the bottom of his pants into the aged brown boots, his tuning fork he kept on a necklace dangled in his face. The troubadour only stood when he was convinced it was smooth enough to look seamless. He pulled on his red doublet with the sharp shoulders but didn't bother to button it closed.

The bard walked to the window. He frowned when he saw how much of the snow had stuck to the ground throughout the night. It looked as though it would come up to his ankles. He sighed as he leaned against the window. He shut his eyes. If Geralt had left without him, it didn't really matter how deep the snow was he supposed. He was fine enough to stay in the tavern and keep preforming. 

"You're awake." A deep voice filled the air. 

Jaskier jumped from the sudden sound and hit his head on the windowsill. He turned around quickly to see who it was. Geralt smirked at Jaskier's fear but didn't speak about it. The bard rubbed his head and cursed under his breath. 

"Do you always sneak up to people?" Jaskier complained. He looked at his hand as though he would see blood. There was none. 

"I have to be stealthy considering my line of work." Geralt said simply. He sat on the bed, his leather armor groaning as he did. 

"There's no monsters in my room." Jaskier complained. He put his hand back to his head as the dull pain of a headache began. 

"It's innate, Jaskier. I can't turn it off."

"That's rather unfortunate." Jaskier grumbled. He sat on the desk chair and leaned leisurely against the back. "I don't know how I'll get along with you scaring me so often. I may end up with brain damage." 

Geralt scoffed a laugh at the words. He turned towards the bed he sat atop. His hand carefully pulled at the blanket as he moved it back into place. He only looked back at the bard when the bed was made nice enough to pass and hardly slept in. 

Jaskier sighed and walked over to Geralt. He sat beside him on the bed, unintentionally messing up the blanket he had just fixed. The troubadour rested his hand on his head and shut his eyes in an attempt to ignore any of the dull pain. Neither Jaskier nor Geralt said anything to the other. The silence simply hovered in the air. It bounced off the walls and reverberated past their skulls. 

"Geralt?" Jaskier's voice was hardly even a whisper. He looked at Geralt with sorrowful eyes, though he forced a smile. 

"Hmmm?"

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. He didn't know how to word what he was thinking. How was he supposed to tell Geralt that he desperately wanted to remember what he had forgotten? Why had he wished away Geralt's memory to begin with? Guessing by how Geralt treated him they had been decent friends before. He sighed and returned to resting his head on his hand with closed eyes.