One Shots Nico Di Angelo

The Forgotten - Epilogue

Author Note

First of all, I know I had ended this series, but I felt like doing an epilogue. I know it doesn't add anything to the story and it's just like a family one shot or something like that, and I'm sorry if you don't like it, you can just ignore this, I know it's but, in my mind I was thinking about something better, but then I got stucked with some words, and I haven't sleep enough today so  my brain is stupid... More than usual, and... Hey, yesterday I learned how to make the bold words, so now I'll do author notes more often jejejeje, and now, really, I'm sorry if you don't like this chapter, but I warned you.

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Bianca POV

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Hi, I'm Bianca. That's what I say to the people I meet... And it's just a name.

Like, literally, just a name.

I don't know what lies behind it.

I had an accident, or that I've been told. I don't remember anything. Nor my name. The doctors told me that my name was Bianca, and I can't do other thing but believe them.

Nobody knows where I come from, there are just theories, saying that, thanks to my accent, I might be Italian.

Don't misunderstand me, I do remember things, sometimes I get flashes, and things like maths, language or stuff like that, I do remember it. But personal things... It's not the same.

It's just... There is nothing there. I've tried to remember and... I only got stressed.

But I have to say, I'm very grateful to Mr.Brunner, he is a rich guy, and, when he heard about my situation, he decided he would pay everything. The treatment, a house, studies if needed... Everything, until I didn't need any kind of support.

So bills and all that aren't a thing for me, which, for what I've heard, it's something I must be grateful for.

And here I'm, in a flat, all by my own. Still deciding what to do with my life, not knowing anything about my past. And... with a lot of furniture from Ikea still in their boxes. I should assemble them, but I'm lazy. So, instead, I do the only thing that keeps me from worrying about my past or my present or my future: I draw.

As always, I try to draw that kid from my flashes, I'm sure he is important, somehow.

He has black hair, and brown eyes. Short hair, with that typical face that the kids have, that is always impressed by everything, that hasn't had a tragedy in his life. That is happy, and everything causes excitement. I love that face. And I can't never get it right.

So imagine my surprise when someone knocks at my door, and, reluctantly, I open it to see a young man who looks a lot like the kid from my flashes, the one I'm trying to draw, but never get it right.

Or maybe it's just my imagination, nah, they are just similar. Nothing else. He would recognise me if it was the same kid.

Behind him, there is a girl, with the most beautiful hair I've ever seen. It's curled and hides behind her shoulders. Her eyes are brown as well.

"Hi" He says. And then she offers me a plate of... Cookies.

He laughs.

And I smile.

"We've heard you're new on the building, and, well... We wanted to stop by and say hi."

"Oh, of course, come in please. I'm sorry the mess."