Work Text:
I’m Al, I think.
I’m not sure. I wake up feeling devoid. Clueless. Empty. I look into the mirror, and find a red-headed stranger staring back at me. Hollow eyes that are neither brown nor red but something in between.
Who’s this man?
Who am I?
But the word “ AL ” is written on my palm, so I assume it’s my name.
A tanned man stands by the doorway.
Under his unkempt, auburn hair, rich brown eyes stare back at me, flashing a dimpled smile.
My heart skips a beat.
“Hello, I’m Alberu. But you call me Al.” he says.
I raise my brows. But aren’t I Al?
“I’m your best friend, lover, and husband,” he adds. Beams.
For a second, I stand lost in the pools of his eyes. And I try so hard, but I can’t remember this handsome man. Yet somehow, I feel the name isn’t merely ink on my palm. I think my heart wrote it there—a reminder.
“Really?” I finally say, smiling. “Remind me why.”
Alberu reminded me well.
He says my name’s Cale—I believe him. He tells me stories—I believe them. He says I have a dysfunctional brain and every morning, when I wake up, my memory fades. Reasonable, so I believe him.
Alberu says he loves me, and I believe him; his kisses, his caresses.
Oh, God, I do.
By midnight, I begin crying, fearing the sunrise. Tomorrow, I’ll forget about Alberu.
I don’t want to forget him.
Kissing my forehead, he whispers, “Even if you can’t remember me, don’t worry; I’ll come back. I’ll return and remind you that you’re mine, and mine alone, Cale.”
To my bewilderment, Alberu’s voice darkens, a grin appearing on his face.
Terrified, I step back.
“Forever. Only mine.”
In an instant, I’m crushed beneath him on the bed. Alberu, my Al , assaults me with rough kisses; the caresses gone as he litters bruises on my pale skin. He paints reds, and violets and blues on the canvas that was my skin, and I pant in pain.
My heart bleeds.
Oh, God. Who is this man?
Afterwards, he takes a pen, and darkens his name on my palm. Rough fingers digging into my wrist.
Two letters.
One name.
‘AL’
My best friend, lover, and husband.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies .
It’s morning. I woke up in a strange bed.
I feel lost. Clueless. Empty
I’m Al, I think.