The Things He Forgot

TW: Degenerative illness, grief

We were just strangers.

The cruelest part was that we had once been everything to each other.

I was a Warrior of Veyrath, raised to carry a blade before I learned to hold a pen. Lucien was a servant. In Veyrath, people like him suffered, and people like me made sure they did.

Every day, I found him in the castle halls. It was subtle, but a hint of mischief always sparkled between us. He would be adjusting the edges of the carpet. I walked past with my chin held high, sword at my side. But I couldn’t help allowing a small smile to slip from my hard, solemn face, and I could practically sense him rolling his eyes. With my hand behind my back, I quickly gave him the signal: a fist, fingers spread, a claw, and a thumbs-down.

I didn’t have to turn around to know he saw it.

I walked down the hall, then, when I made sure nobody was looking, slipped into a corridor and retraced the familiar path I had memorized years ago.

I reached the abandoned corridor and slipped down three crumbling steps into the hidden garden that Lucien and I had claimed years ago. A rusted fence enclosed the patch of grass, forgotten by the palace but never by us.

"Hi, Dorian."

He hopped off the tree he was clinging to, right beside me. He croaked softly. I reached out and stroked his head.

My stiff posture relaxed as I leaned against a sun-warmed rock, letting its heat seep through the leather armor strapped across my chest. The muscles in my face broke into a small smile, and for once, I simply let the sunlight wash over me.

For a few minutes, I was not the blade Veyrath had sharpened me into.

“You know, for someone sneaking into an abandoned garden, you are incredibly loud. And you stepped on an ant on the way here. And- HI DORIAN!"

I would have jumped up, but I recognized that voice all too well.

“Lucien, let me enjoy the moments I can. I literally have class in thirty minutes. And you seemed to be more excited to see that dumb frog than me.”

“Yeah, yeah, Your Highness.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm, and he grinned and dropped beside me. "You ant murderer. Watch where you walk." With incredible care, he lifted his pet frog to his face and cooed to it like a child. "She called you a dumb frog? You poor thing." I rolled my eyes. The frog looked at him with as much love as a frog could give.

I looked up at his hands. They were stained a dark brown, no doubt from the medicinal herbs he stole from the castle kitchens. Lucien had a heart bigger than anyone I knew. Even if a street rat got ill, he would find a way to make it feel better, even if it meant risking his position as a servant. Even the death of the smallest ant hurt him, so I watched where I stepped when he was around.

Usually.

For a while, we simply sat there, letting the quiet settle around us.

Then, inevitably, we started talking.

“Did you hear—”

“Last night, I—”

“You can’t—”

Soon we were both rolling around in the grass, clutching our stomachs with laughter, and Dorian lost himself somewhere in the grass again. It was like this every day, and somehow I never got bored with it.

Lucien was the only person who let me feel human.

Eventually, he sat up, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I found this hanging in one of the nobles’ rooms,” he said. He unfurled it.

I tensed, staring at the loops of ink. I hated moments like this—the sharp reminder that I couldn’t read. Lucien noticed the stiffness in my shoulders. Without a word, his teasing smirk softened perceptively. He subtly moved the paper into his own lap so I wouldn't have to look at the blank, confusing shapes, and cleared his throat.

“THE HOLLOWING

A mind may forget. A heart may fade.

Victims lose their memory within one month.

Report all symptoms.”

I laughed.

“What is this? Propaganda? How could somebody possibly lose all their memories in a month?” It sounded ridiculous.

Lucien shook his head.

“I don’t know. I read something about it in one of the old medical books I found.”

Of course, he had.

If there were a book hidden anywhere in the kingdom, Lucien would somehow discover it. “They called them Hollowings,” he continued. “Apparently, a virus that attacks the upper chambers of the brain.” His eyes brightened as he spoke. That happened whenever the conversation drifted toward medicine. Lucien was smarter than most nobles I had met. Yet he was just another orphan, pushed into the cruel world with no chance to be what he wanted to be.

At least, not yet.

One day, I would be queen.

And when that happened, I had promised him things would be different.

I shrugged. I was all force and no smarts.

“You’d forget how annoying I am,” I joked.

“Nah.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“You’re too much.”

I punched him in the arm.

“OW!”

“Deserved.”

“Okay, okay, I was joking,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

I stood abruptly.

“Oh, dang. I’m gonna be late!”

I grabbed my sword, along with the harsh personality I always seemed to carry with it, and slung it over my shoulder. For a brief moment, my eyes flickered back to the poster.

A mind may forget. A heart may fade.

I wish I knew back then.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Two weeks passed. Life continued, I continued my training, and Lucien continued reading. I walked to our garden again, on a chilly fall day. Then, I heard a voice.

“You’re late.”

That was weird. Lucien, as punctual as he was, had never arrived before me. He sat up on the rock, grinning stupidly. I knew that smile all too well.

“What did you find?” I asked suspiciously. “You better not be pickpocketing again.”

He shook his head. “I was assigned to clean the library again,” he explained impatiently. “Look!”

He pulled out a worn, leather-covered book. “The Diseases of Veyrath,” he read. He vigorously flipped through the pages, so fast I thought he might rip the pages out. But I knew he would never. Whenever someone left a torn-up textbook in the trash, far beyond usage, Lucien would spend hours in secret, fixing the pages, rewriting the words, and studying.

“Page 268: The Hollows.” He began rambling on, but I was used to it. I tried to focus, but my quick mind was made for battle, not sitting around listening. Yet, I forced myself to understand what he was saying. Lucien loved it when people listened to him.

“... and in the end, they forget everything. Isn’t it cool, Valora?!”

His eyes lit up, a huge smile on his face. I missed seeing him so happy, so I smiled, too.

“Yeah!” I lied, feigning interest. He tucked the book away.

“You’d better not let anyone see that, though. You’ll get caught.” I warned.

“Yeah, yeah, stop being a worrywart. I won’t get caught with…”

His eyes suddenly caught a faraway gaze, and I turned in the direction he was staring at. Nothing. I looked back at him, and he snapped out of whatever trance he was in. “What were you saying?” I asked. He looked a bit confused and opened his mouth, then closed it.

That was new. Lucien never hesitated. In fact, I had told him countless times to “look before you leap,” but what stopped him? He shook his head and took a sharp breath.

“Nuthin. I must be tired.” He put on a smile and let out a forced laugh. “I need a second.”

He walked back toward the castle. My mind was blank with confusion. No laughs? No stories about his crazy day? I waited for at least an hour, figuring he’d return and we could resume the conversation. Goosebumps pricked my arms as the sun set, and I headed back inside.

For the first time in years, we didn’t have our normal conversation.

The next day, I waited patiently for Lucien. Was he sick? Mad at me? Had I said something rude? But my nerves were calmed when I heard the door creak open.

“Look who’s late today,” I teased. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He mumbled through a smile.

“What happened yesterday?” I asked. “Were you sick or something? You totally ghosted me!” I maintained the playful tone in my voice, but inside, I was really curious.

“Uhm…” he looked ahead, eyebrows furrowed. “Uhm… yesterday?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “y’know, you showed me the book?”

His eyes sparkled with memory. “Right!” he said.

But the smile that usually followed never came.

I didn’t have to have Lucien’s bright brain to know that something was off. It was awkward, and Lucien wasn’t being… Lucien. I searched his big blue eyes, looking for the soul I was so used to. Lucien suddenly backed away. “Relax!” he blurted out. “I’m okay, I promise!”

I cocked my head. Why was he so jumpy all of a sudden?

“Lucien, I’m not going to hurt you.” As if I ever would, I thought. I've trusted this person for almost half my life. “Something's up, isn't it?"

He looked down, his irises darkened. “Lucien…”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice was a tone off, and I could tell he was lying.

“Are you sick?” I asked gently.

“I… I’m…”

His eyes went blank again, then he slumped his shoulders, defeated.

“I’m tired, that’s all.” He finally said, after a couple of minutes of silence.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Really sure?”

“Really.”

My eyes searched his again. He was good at lying, and I was good at believing. But even then, something was not right.

It was a day later when he finally told me.

It was raining, and in the giant oak tree, Lucien and I sat in the branches. We were both panting because the sudden storm caused us to run to the closest shelter. Even so, we were drenched. I squeezed the water out of my thick black braid, while Lucien wrung out the front of his shirt. We were both laughing.

That was, until he fell out of the tree.

I scrambled down the tree. Lucien taught me to climb trees. He used to brag that he had never fallen out, not once. Sliding off the branch, I dropped onto the ground. I walked over to where Lucien was lying out in the wet grass, like a starfish.

“You… okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. The grass is actually soft.”

I lay down, the blades of soft green shoots framing my body and tickling the sides of my face.

“What happened?” I asked. “How’d you fall?”

He suddenly sat up. “I, uh… tripped.”

I rolled my eyes, then sat up too. “You can't trip on air," I laughed. “Seriously, what happened? You’re making me worried.”

His eyes never met mine, and I had a sudden feeling the wet streaks on his cheeks were not from the rain.

“I forgot I was in a tree.” He said suddenly.

I waited for the laugh, an explanation for the joke. It never came, except for a fear sparking his blue eyes - fear that I had never seen before.

“I forgot what happened yesterday; I forgot how to climb down. I forgot where my cleaning schedule was. I forgot-”

His voice cracked, and I knew he was crying. Anger surged in me, along with a burning in the back of my throat.

“Who did this to you?” I unconsciously felt my fingers wrap around my sword. “Did someone hurt you? I’ll hunt them down-”

“No, Valora.” His gaze finally met my eyes.

The eyes that always looked into mine.

The eyes that saw me as more than a warrior of the kingdom.

The eyes that were now hopeless, crying for the first time since we were kids.

“I'm forgetting, Valora. I have the…”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. For the first time, I wished he were playing a prank on me. I wished he’d make fun of me for worrying. I wished he was joking. But the look in his eyes was terrified and empty. And for the first time, I wasn’t fighting a battle.

I was watching a battle between Lucien and his own mind.

“There’s no cure. Every week, more names appear on the notice boards. The infirmary is overflowing. I learned that your family is immune. So you’re okay. But I’m not. It spreads genetically. It was bound to happen. I should have known. I tried to hide it, Val. But... but I’m taking notes. So don't worry.”

He showed me a little notebook that was shoved into his pocket. It was a little damp, but I peeled the pages delicately. I was unused to treating something so gently. I didn’t have to read to know what was on the pages. Probably what he thought about the world, about me, and our secrets. I never wanted to read so badly as in that moment. I strained to keep my tears from spilling out of my eyes. I didn’t want to make him feel worse. But it hurt me to see the boy I spent years with suffering, losing what he had in his own head. All his facts. All his little quirks in his personality. Everything that makes him him.

I had no idea what to do, but I wanted to do something. Anything for my best friend.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

We continued meeting at our place. It was comforting. The days got colder, but that never stopped me from meeting him. I wanted to take every opportunity to help him: I would tell him everything that he had told me, everything about myself, everything from how the kingdom worked to all the facts and books he loved so much. I had never noticed how much I knew about him. By Week 2, we filled his notebook with notes, like

- Your schedule is under your pillow in your dorm.

- Your dorm room is 56B.

- Your name is Lucien.

and personal things, like

- You hate thunderstorms, but pretend you don't. (I DON'T, VALORA TOLD ME TO WRITE THAT!)

- You laugh before you finish telling a joke. (Valora called me an idiot and said I look stupid.)

- You say "nuthin" when you are nervous. (I object.)

- Dorian is your child (Valora says it's a frog and not a human.)

He would desperately scribble down the little things that I told him to write. But after we finished the notebook, from cover to cover, I realized that there was still so much that I couldn't tell him. I could write facts. I could write names. I could write schedules. But I couldn't write the way he laughed before every joke, or how gently he held every living thing, or what our garden felt like on warm afternoons.

I really began to see him fade. He came to the garden, a little confused. I smiled and swallowed the hurt in my throat. We went through his notebook every day. Until:

"Your name is Lucien."

He nodded.

"And who's Valora?"

My heart stopped.

"Me." I replied slowly.

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Lucien stopped coming to the garden. I remember the first day he didn’t come. I sat there, fighting the urge to cry, waiting for him to open the door and tease me for worrying. I waited hopelessly. Dorian, noticing something was missing, hopped away, leaving me all alone.

Walking down the hallway, I spotted him. He was dusting the portraits of my ancestors. I gave him the signal. For the first time, he shook his head, confused. “Valora, what was that?” He inquired. I shook my head, fighting tears.

“I was just stretching my hand,” I said quickly.

He looked at me. His blue eyes were blank. He searched my face with the polite confusion reserved for strangers. His words had no meaning anymore. It was just uttered like any other sentence.

I was running out of time. I had nothing to do. I had never felt so hopeless. I couldn’t fight someone else’s battle. Not when the enemy had no face, no weapon, no place for my sword to strike.

I waited for the smallest sign — a joke, a smile, a roll of his eyes. Anything.

But I only saw him staring at the pages of his notebook. One day, he called me over. My heart jumped up with hope: did he know who I was?

"Do you know someone named Valora? She seems to be important to me."

Once, he told me forgetting me was impossible.

It was months later when I found a small slot of paper jammed in the corner of my doorframe. I had never noticed it before. I slowly opened it and recognized the loops and curves right away.

Lucien's handwriting.

Quickly, I asked another servant to read it to me.

"Dear Valora,

I'm losing it. My mind hurts. I can't remember as much of anything. Thank you for writing in my notebook with me today. If I ever forget you, please remember me. Because I can't imagine forgetting anyone like you. You're too annoying, anyway. But just in case. P.S. Feed Dorian. He gets hungry.

Sincerely, Lucien."

Even after he forgot me, I caught myself avoiding spiders, expecting him to scold me. Sometimes I walked through our garden alone, replaying our stories and laughter, trying to remember enough for both of us.

The Hollowing had not taken Lucien away all at once.

It had taken him piece by piece.

Until eventually, there was nothing left that connected us.

He forgot me.

We were just strangers.

Again.