Jake has a lover from the past, though he remembers her in this life too. She was his reasons for all inspiration, his work of art, and his to bring him pain. Yet what separates them was this new life.
When he does manages to find her, will she reco...
Jake was well aware that he was playing with fate here. One word too many, and he could risk losing you forever. Yet for some unknown entity that decided to possess him in that moment, he decided to offer his heart and gave it a chance. Because if he was really being honest with himself, he genuinely didn't know why he'd done it either, other than the fact that he loves you. The old lady had really made it a point to never seek you, but here he was, he'd just asked you out for fucks sake.
It was the part when you told him about dating other people, and something just took over him. But of course you would be seeing other men, you didn't know who Jake was–or what you two have had. He'd dated other people before, but nothing ever closely compared to you since he remembered everything. You, on the other hand, didn't remember a thing, and that to a great extent, scared him.
What if you fall in love with some other guy and never look for Jake again? What if you'll never come to remember him? He'd be destined to live in agony without you again, or even worse, what if your future partner doesn't treat you well? Something bad could happen, someone could hurt you, and there was no way for him to be there to protect you. Jake wasn't used to functioning without you, so to think of you fending for yourself, after all the lifetime you've spent apart, it squeezed at his heart and knocked him hard in the head. The memory of your life together was just too strong to be let go.
With that being said, when he heard about your failed date, Jake blurted the question before he ought to think of the consequences.
He managed to come up with a solution though, he'd self-reversed psychology himself to make it so that everything was fine. The lady said he shouldn't seek you out first, nor tell you about his past life. So far, you were the one looking for him, and he hadn't said a word about you two nor your connection (to an extent). Therefore, he was safe. Besides, what were the chances that you'd remember the past once you two start dating? Not zero, he'll hope. There was no way that you could forget a whole life with him, your children, everything.
He'll learn to cope eventually if you end up never remembering, but then maybe you two could still be together if the relationship works out. Jake loves you now just like how he loved you then, so until the feeling is reciprocated, he was willing to do everything possible to make it work with you, even if this was just a coincidental event in your life.
For a while, he did deliberately consider putting away the memories. Just like how memories were meant to stay in your recollections, he knew he would only be left disappointed and unsatisfied in the end if he tried to recreate it somehow, so for now, he was willing to keep his past life safely locked away in the special place of his heart. He was determined to create new memories with you. It would be just as good, because it would still be you, and that was all that mattered.
This didn't dismiss the pain in his heart of course, he was still hurt that you didn't remember him, even after he'd painted you again. This time even more perfectly than before, because he was finally able to see you again, his memories were polished and it freshly engraved your face into his brain again. The painting was more alive than any one of his other works before, and while the hyacinths made it even more torturous for him, it was the only other prominent memory of his lover.
You clearly loved it, and you thought that he felt familiar too. That was something, so Jake just hoped that it would work out, one way or another. Even if you don't remember, maybe you could still learn to love him as a man again. But in the meantime, he'll just keep on painting you over and over again, trying to manifest and sublimate you into his life as his lover again, and not just a stranger that he loves one-sidedly.
When Jake went to bed that night, he stared at the painting in the dark. Enough time has passed that his pupils were used to expanding to adjust to the darkness, but also with the help of the crescent that lighty penetrated his curtain, it allowed him to see the shapes of the painting. He didn't really need a full look anyway, because he knew the rest by heart, the same painting he'd been seeing for the longest time since he recreated it. It was the product of the three of you, Jake, you, and your child.
Would he ever have children with you again? Would they be the same children? If the two of you stayed together and had a child, would it be your firstborn again, the one that played with your portrait and turned it into the most precious thing he'd owned in this lifetime? Because it led you straight to him, because of the child's creation that garnered a serendipity for him.
He just wished you could remember. It had been a lift time, well, many of them—of misery and loneliness. Nothing ever seemed to manage to fill the puncture in his heart left behind by you, your children, and the life you all had together. He missed you more than words could comply, in addition to that, who would he even tell? How could he blatantly talk about his yearning for the wife and children of his many lives ago? If he'd said that to the wrong person, he would've been locked up in a mental institution by now.
Unlike you, he never doubted his reality–nor did he wonder if he was insane. He knew it all too well, because he'd lived all with you, that perfect life. He missed the good days, but he missed the bad–terrible–horrible days even more. Every second he spent with you painfully reminded him that you were no longer his lover, not his wife nor the mother of all his children, and not the woman he grew old with. And to that, he'd painted until he couldn't hold a pencil in his hand anymore.
A hot tear slipped out of his eye and wet his face on its way down his temple, disappearing into his dark hair. Another one followed as the hole in his chest grew wider and wider until it consumed him, leaving him crying out, embracing himself, and hoping for all of it to be a bad dream. Jake wished he'd wake up in the old lake house with you by his side and the child between you, and that you'd pat his cheek gently, wiping away his cold sweat, telling him it was all a bad dream.
That was a lesson he learned the hard way, to limit the recreation and recollection of memories, because while it brought him closure, every glance at it was like pulling his heart to shreds.
