Chapter Twenty-one: Home

3.2K 406 69
                                    


Fourteen Times.

That's the number of times he'd moved in his life.

Fourteen.

And three months ago is when he moved into his most recent house. A nice place on the outskirts of a nice town with his nice parents.

Everything was okay. And that was okay.

Damian woke up feeling like he'd just emerged from a coma. Not that he'd ever been in a coma, but he just kind of assume that this was what it would feel like. His body felt heavy, his head was foggy. Despite the physical lethargy, his mind was running full speed. There weren't many thoughts going through it at first, just the standard morning thought process, but with each passing second more thoughts began to fill his mind until his brain was swarming with racing thoughts.

He remembered everything. The coffee shop. The mystery quake. The high school. The dubbing. The night before an ensuing battle. The room with the wooden desk and green carpet. The desert.

Alexander.

He remembered Alexander. A flood of mixed emotions poured into his chest. He didn't want to sort through them. Not right now.

A jolt of normalcy shot through him, forcing him out of bed. He scrambled for the phone on his nightstand and checked the time.

8:00. On a Tuesday.

Damian practically leaped out of bed and out of his room. He was going to be late. And Damian was never late.

He hurried to get showered, shaved, and dressed, looking to break the land-speed record this side of the Mississippi. Once he was ready, he left the house without breakfast and drove toward the city.

He had about five minutes to spare by the time he pulled into the office parking lot. Just in time.

He scuttled into the office and began his day.

Everything was just like it was before he left, which he felt should've surprised him more than it did. Everyone talked like he'd been there the whole time. It took him almost an hour to take note of the date.

It was the second Tuesday of July, the same date it was when he'd first stepped foot in the coffee shop.

Of course it was.

Damian couldn't help but laugh to himself about that one.

Of course it was.

The day continued with little fanfare. Everything flowed like it should've. No one questioned a single thing.

The thought of the coffee shop kept creeping back into his head, but he kept pushing it away. The date was a sign, he tried to convince himself, that everything was back to the way it should be and there was no need to poke the bear

It would've been foolish.

He had his life back now, he told himself. He had control again. And that was really all he wanted.

By the time the next day came around, he was up at his normal time. He had some extra time before work started.

He opted to stop at the gas station for his coffee that day.

And Wednesday came and went without much excitement.

Damian still couldn't shake the thoughts swarming his head. He still remembered it, all of them.

He'd first expected the memories to fade over time, like what happens when you wake up from a dream. The whole experience still had a dream-like quality, in that he kept finding it hard to believe just how real it was, but the memories that came along with it were vivid. Incredibly vivid.

He remembered the feeling of going to English class every day, quietly dreading the call of the teacher.

He remembered what it was like to wake up every morning and do his rounds in the stables. The warm, fatherly approval of a mentor that he never had. He recalled the Battle of Dunway and how his instincts moved faster than his mind that day and somehow saved the lives of dozens of his men.

He remembered what it was like to join the Fleet after the devastating attack on the Treatise Peace Convention. The unwavering dedication. The difficult months of training. He remembered the unlikely friend he met there, a shy kind of a guy who joined in hopes of having some stability. He remembered the five years spent together. All five of them. And how close they became.

Yeah, he remembered that a lot better than he was willing to admit.

He also remembered the desert. The barren wasteland, a remnant of a lost world. The weeks spent in solitary traversing the hellscape. He remembered the small spots of hope that kept him going despite the urban decay. He remembered the red haired woman dressed as a djinn in the bar. He remembered every word of what she said.

He remembered the empty bar.

He remembered the room with the green carpet and wooden desk.

He tried not to, though.

But somehow, that was the one he remembered the most clearly.

The days continued and the memories persisted, but he didn't act on them. He kept on going to work, following through with his daily routine. It went smoothly. It had always gone smoothly. And he couldn't ask for anything more.

He didn't bother step foot back in the coffee shop.

One day, when he had an especially long time before work, he took a stroll down the block, passing by the park where they first met and eventually coming across the coffee shop. He stood in front of it for a second, peering in only to see what was going on.

The walls were still the same bright yellow he remembered. The decor was obnoxiously hipster. There were two patrons sitting at two different tables. At the far end of the room stood a curly haired barista with fashionable glasses. He stood at the cash register with a tired, bored sort of look in his eyes.

Damian made sure not to be seen by him.

He left the block with an extra spring in his step and an extra beat in his heart. He knew it was just as good as picking at a scab, but there was a part of him that wouldn't shut the hell up until he went and saw it for himself. And it was there. And it was...fine.

The days continued. Damian couldn't even remember what was going on at work. He couldn't even recall anything that was going on at home. It was the same thing as usual which was...fine.

This was the only place he could ever see himself really being, and he told himself that every day.

He had to constantly remind himself of that every day.

And that was okay.

He was okay with that.

a.u.Where stories live. Discover now