Where I Stand

You are someone I have loved but never known

The room falls silent. Everyone is staring at him. There are four other witchers; the oldest with greyed hair and a mustache, another with pale skin and long straight hair that's completely white despite his young appearance, one built broadly with dark hair and a mess of scarring on one side of his face, and the one that had been kissing Aiden silly a minute ago. Accompanying them are two fae, a man with blue skin and horns and a woman with antlers-- they all look frozen in shock.

The dark haired witcher that Aiden kissed shakes his head. He looks like he wants to scream. Or cry. Maybe both.

Aiden shifts uncomfortably in his seat-- or bed, rather-- feeling hopelessly out of place. "Did I... did I say something wrong?"

"Aiden," the dark haired witcher says, his voice hesitant. "It's me. It's Lambert."

Lambert. The name sounds familiar somehow, but Aiden is sure he's never met this man before. He would remember meeting someone so attractive; he never forgets a pretty face. And this man, with his amber eyes, dark hair, strong jaw, and perfect cupid's bow-- not to mention excellent kissing skills-- oh Aiden would definitely remember him.

Except he can't, so they obviously don't know each other. Even though Lambert seems to know him.

Aiden swallows thickly and bites his lip. It still stings from their shared kiss. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know who you are."

A choked sound comes from Lambert's throat.

The blue faerie gasps softly and covers his mouth.

"No," Lambert breathes. "No, no, no. You're just fucking with me, right?" He grabs Aiden by the shoulders, fingers squeezing tight and trembling. Normally Aiden wouldn't let someone grab him like this, but this man looks so distraught he just allows it to happen. "Please tell me this is just some fucking joke."

Aiden opens his mouth to reply, but can't find anything to say. He wishes there was something he could do to make Lambert stop looking at him like he's seen a ghost.

"No," Lambert says again, this time more insistent. "It was supposed to work. You're supposed to remember." He turns to the blue faerie, voice getting louder. "You told me it worked."

"It did work," the faerie shoots back. "He's speaking, isn't he? Something else must have happened."

Speaking? Aiden frowns. Was he having trouble with speech? That would explain why his voice feels so raw and gravelly when he talks. He must have been asleep for a while. Is that why he can't remember how he got here? Did he hit his head or something?

"Mother fucker. " Lambert runs a hand down his face, gesturing to Aiden. "He got hurt."

Ah. That explains it then.

The woman with antlers looks at Lambert. "Did I not warn you that any injuries experienced there could have dire effects on your mind?"

"I know what you said!" Lambert yells at her, eyes wet and shiny. "There has to be something we can do!"

"Lambert." A new voice cuts in, a rich baritone. The scarred witcher, who has remained remarkably calm thus far approaches the bed. Aiden watches as Lambert visibly tenses. "I know you're upset, but--"

"Upset?" The word is spit like venom and Aiden flinches slightly. "He doesn't know who I am!"

"You need to calm down," the larger witcher says slowly.

"How can I fucking calm down, Eskel? Look at him!"

Everyone's attention falls back on Aiden, and the Cat suddenly wishes he could melt into the floor.