Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

He blinked. "That's nice." Did he say that? He lifted his fingers to the vulnerable bare of his throat and waited for his voice to tingle his fingers. Amnesia tilted her head at him, giving him a disarming smile. The neon lights from the hallway framed her body, making her look angelic and bright. His heart tightened, and his throat beat rapidly. "You should be feeling better. Not much longer."

Doctor Amnesia turned in the doorway and walked back towards him. Good. He hated being alone, and young lovers are supposed to spend time together.

He felt like something was missing when she was alone, even more so than usual. It made him sad when she was gone, and he wished more than anything else that he could heal whatever was keeping her down. He knew - thought? - that's how romance worked. Two people get married, meet, and fix each other.

Excepting the ache that throbbed between his temples, he was totally fine. The sadness in her eyes was what he thought he fell in love with last. That said, it was what tethered him to her. When he looked into her eyes, he thought he could see himself. It'd been so long since he'd seen himself in the mirror. The reflection in her glasses was the closest thing.

Amnesia wrinkled her hand over his smoothed forehead. "I'm going to fix you," he promised her. "I love you so much."

"You should get some sleep." Her fingers worked at his scalp. "It's not going to be easy."

"It's all right," he said, and inhaled sharply as he pulled back the bandage circling his forehead. "It isn't going to hurt that badly."

"You're sure?" The surgical wounds were still fresh, and they stung when they were exposed to the sterile, cold air. "We could go to bed together. There's plenty of room."

He blinked slowly, feeling a trickle of blood run down his cheek. "Strictly professional?"

"Who cares about that?" After a beat, he nodded. Amnesia understood everything. There was no reason for him to doubt her. "Did it hurt?"

"Yeah," he said, because it always did, for as long as he could remember.

She smiled at him, fire crackling in her gaze. It chilled him. "It'll hurt a bit more. I'm sorry." Amnesia pulled out her scalpel and traced the blunt end down the side of his neck. His heart was dry. His mouth was hot and full of desire. "Just have to take care of something, all right?"

It was a thin line. Down his chest, careful and precise and then extremely loud, to the point where he thought he'd heard it even in his sleep. He wasn't sleeping. She was straddling his hips, and the closeness of her was thrilling and frightening and so, so much, and he was dangerously close to kissing her.

Was this their first kiss? When do people kiss?

He couldn't move, and she stayed firmly in place, but each flick of her scalpel was felt deep in his blood, bone pouring down his skin. She cut away, excised ruined tissue, ruined memories, ruined love. Her eyes dazzled like blood diamonds.

He looked too far away in the reflection to be scared. It's much easier to be afraid when things are close. Closeness makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe.

"This isn't how things are done." She snapped open his sternum. There was so much bone. It echoed in his ears, rattling through his veins. "But you don't care about that, do you?"

"Not as long as I have you."

She pulled away, her hands covered in blood, and the smile she gave him felt flat and distant. He reached out for her, plaintive, and his blood smeared against his cheek. It was her hand. His hand. Whose hand?

His lips moved, desperate for Amnesia's kiss, but all that was left when he opened his eyes was an aching brain and an empty heart.