Shell shock
Retention Loss
Chapter Six: Shell shock
"My head is bad, but my heart is good."
Shock is not a way to describe the feeling washing over Kris when Ami answers the door.
Yes, shock is an understatement. As she flings open the door squealing, "Kris!"
Kris is joyous. She remembers me.
They celebrate. Overjoyed.
They talk about how she knew before he had to tell her.
And, he's thrilled to hear that she remembers. Not much but enough.
Because the fact she can recall walking hand in hand to the bakery with him yesterday is good enough.
It's the first time since they'd reunited, she could recall him without turning to her photo book.
This is progress.
For once the day before is not lost, and he can feel a certain welcomeness that is not always present in his visits.
Today he doesn't feel like a stranger.
They cherish this.
Days like today are tiny treasures, precious pearls that they can only hope to come across.
Today there is no tea, no Mcmuffins, and no retellings.
Kris and Ami are just two people in love, rather than two strangers hanging on the traces of long forgotten memories.
Today there are no awkward moments at the kitchen table, instead they're replaced by the meeting of lips.
The pregnant silences are long gone, over shadowed by the wrestling of tongues and the shedding of clothes.
Those moments disappear, swallowed by the desperation of needing just one more moment together.
One more moment to remember.
They rewrite all that was lost with something new. A memory that Ami doesn't want to forget.
It replaces the stiffness when they sat beside each other on the couch, with the white of sheets and the tan of skin.
Ami brushes shy fingers over his flesh. Over his eyelids, and nose. Mouth, and chin, and neck, and then his collarbones.
Commits every detail to memory, and prays it stays with her.
Down, down, chest, abdomen, belly button, hips, stop--.
She looks into his eyes as she finds herself with her back against the mattress.
And, suddenly he's everywhere.
Kris' touch, his smell. He overpowers everything.
I want to remember this.
Palms, and fingertips, and lips, and the arching of backs against ivory sheets.
And, she thinks that their relationship should be defined by this.
Lovemaking between the two is defined by the quiet moans, the dampness of sweat, and the creaking of the mattress.
Summarized by her hands on his shoulders, finger nails imprinting tiny crescent moons on his damp skin. By the crescendo in his cries of pleasure.
It's horrible, but in a perfect kind of way. Sinful.
Ami stares at the ceiling after, willing her memory to remain strong.
She longs to recall this tomorrow. She doesn't want him to be a stranger anymore.
His voice greets her in the darkness, whispering, “What are you thinking about right now?”
“About how much I want to stay like this.”
Kris doesn't say anything. Because he's hoping the same thing.
The daylight fades, and in creeps night, painting the world in black.
“Will you love me again tomorrow?”
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The ending and beginning quotes are from Changdictator's Anterograde Tomorrow.
So, how's this story going? Am I loosing touch? *sobs* ;A;
Comment and let me know your thoughts?
Love you all, my lovely subscribers~ ♥
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