Thread: Amnesia (Nico x Hahvoc)

RE Amnesia Nico x Hahvoc Oliver typed the numbers in quickly. The phone rang once twice. A familiar lackluster voice answered, Yes? This is doctor Breden's office. How may I help you? Hey Jean, it's Oliver, he coughed awkwardly, I've had some family matters come up that I have to sort out, so I won't be able to make it to work this week. Is that a problem? There was the sound of a pen scratching on the other side, and a curt answer. Oliver furrowed his brows. No? Oh good. I'll try to get out of it, but if I can't I just wanted to call to let you know. Tell Jacob he can have my slot too this week. He needs the practice anyway. Oh ok. Bye. Have a good da- The connection cut off. Oliver placed the receiver back in the phone both with a sigh. Stepping off the sidewalk, he noticed only now were people arriving at the park. It was about noon. He cursed himself again for the upteenth time for not having a cell phone But he believed the benefits of that outweighed the consequences. No one could call him to bother him every second of the day, and whenever they wished. They had to call his home phone. However, he was slightly anxious about checking up on Lowell. It had been a while since he had left. He hoped he was ok. Did I really just have that thought? Shaking his head, Oliver quickened his strides. It would take him about twenty minutes to get home. ---- They keys paused before the doorknob. Oliver felt his heart was racing a little too fast. He had the faint thought that it might be safer to go in through the back entrance, before he pushed it away with an annoyed grunt. How pathetic to feel like an intruder walking into your own home. Setting down some groceries, he looked around. Everything was as he left it. That was strange. Did Lowell get to eat? Oliver shook his head and chuckled. How's that. What am I, his nanny? However, he couldn't shake nagging the desire to go and check on his guest. The door to his bedroom was ajar, and opened with a slight creek. Oliver peered in. It was dark. All the curtains were drawn closed. The only light emitted from his bedside alarm clock. With a frown, Oliver realized it was slightly hot and muggy as well. It was past midday, and his house had poor ventilation. Slowly, he crept inside, his eyes fixed on the lump in the bed. Walking up to the bed stand, Oliver reached up and turned off the heater and on the AC. Then he looked down at Kerrigan. A mix of emotions crossed over his face. His old patient was sleeping soundly, breathing even, and was hugging a pillow. It was a pure pose, like something a lost child seeking comfort would do. He wondered if the old Lowell had slept like this too. It was a funny thought, and Oliver couldn't keep from smiling. He continued to stare at the sleeping face, ignoring the nagging in the back of his mind that told him this wasn't exactly kosher. It was curious and almost exciting to be able to see Lowell's face without Lowell looking back at him. It looked so relaxed. He tried to match it's softened contours up with the dark eyes and sharp, witty mouth that he remembered. Awake, Lowell had commanded his space effortlessly, and had left little unguarded. Asleap, his face was softened and his mannerisms child-like. This wasn't the face of someone haunted by their past. Perhaps, in that way, the amnesia was a blessing. He really is handsome. Oliver's smile slipped from his face. Memories of all of the things that slightly parted mouth had said to him ran through his head. He remembered the distinct whiplash of their conversations, but never had he believed any of it was genuine. Lowell liked throwing his opponents off their tracks, and then scavenging the rubble for anything he could use. He was smart, and at times, Oliver's professionalism slipped. In Dr. Breden's office, Oliver was the therapist and Lowell was his patient. It was supposed to foster sterile, clean relations yet Kerrigan always warped things to his liking and somehow ended up in control. After growing uneasy under Mr. Kerrigan's gaze, his own exasperated tone filled the long pause, Will you please just let me get through this? What is stopping you? A level voice answered. The question had confused him. Well- You. You are. I just need you to answer the questions simply. A laugh echoed in his ears. Simply? That would be a blessing for any vapid, hopeless case, wouldn't it? To be ignorant enough to believe that their mind could be chalked out by a shrink's- forgive me, no, a child's- pen. Grey eyes cut him down from over his clipboard. Nothing will ever be simple. None wish for it to be, either. Oliver shook his head, ridding himself of the memory. Somehow, Kerrigan's voice made anything he said sound like it had multi-facets. He was fascinating... Fascinating and terrifying. Turning away quietly, Oliver made his way to the door. Opening it, and stepping out into the light of the hall, he shut the memories behind him away with a click.