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windswept

Summary:

The memories don’t come back consistently or cleanly. Some don't come back at all.

Bits and pieces come to him at seemingly random instances, and he often doesn't have every part of every fragment. Sometimes, Prentice hears something but his eyes don't remember it, or sees something he can't hear.

Wylie, when he was little, running around in t-rex pajamas with mallowmelt all over his face, refusing to let him wipe it off. Prentice can't hear his mischievous little cackle, but he knows it's there.

Cyrah's laugh. It was always so light, so clear, and she snort-laughed any time something caught her off guard.

Tiergan, looking supremely annoyed at a puffy, bloated elf.

A whispered promise.

The promise is the one that Prentice keeps coming back to.

Notes:

fic for day 3 of tiertice week with the prompt "memory!" enjoy <3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The memories don’t come back consistently or cleanly. Some don't come back at all. 

Bits and pieces come to him at seemingly random instances, and he often doesn't have every part of every fragment. Sometimes, Prentice hears something but his eyes don't remember it, or sees something he can't hear. 

Wylie, when he was little, running around in t-rex pajamas with mallowmelt all over his face, refusing to let him wipe it off. Prentice can't hear his mischievous little cackle, but he knows it's there.

Cyrah's laugh. It was always so light, so clear, and she snort-laughed any time something caught her off guard.

Tiergan, looking supremely annoyed at a puffy, bloated elf. 

A whispered promise. 

The promise is the one that Prentice keeps coming back to. He vaguely recognizes the soft voice as Tiergan's, but he has no visual to link it with, nor any context in the brief memory. But... he can guess. He's replayed the memory fragment over and over. Tiergan promises to wait for him, promises to catch him up on everything when the time comes. He promises to look after them. The memory also comes with a sensation on his forehead, like someone is pressing their lips to the soft spot above his brow, light enough that Prentice thinks he might've imagined it. 

Prentice closes his eyes and grounds himself, breathing in deeply until he's firmly in the present. 

He misses so much. He misses memories he doesn't have, inside jokes he can't remember. He misses Cyrah. He misses the movie nights Tiergan told him about, nights he wishes he could remember, the three of them together after Wylie was asleep. He misses being able to think on the past without tears pricking at his eyes. 

When the door opens, Prentice barely notices. He's too busy trying to piece things together. It's a daily hobby for him- people always said having a hobby was good for your memory, right? He knows it isn't good for him to dwell on the past, but he can't help himself. The few memories he's mended have felt like huge leaps forward, and he's drunk on remembering

"Prentice?"

Tiergan's voice jolts him back to the present, and he has to blink a few times to clear his vision- though it turns out they were tears blurring everything, not just thoughts. Prentice quickly swipes them away and turns to face Tiergan, but before he can say anything, he notices Tiergan's hair. He's pulled it up out of his face, but it's clearly been messed up, flying every which way as though he'd spent some quality time with a tornado. He supposes there are weirder habits. 

But something feels familiar about the flyaways surrounding Tiergan's face. 

Cold air prickles on the back of his neck - his dreadlocks must be tied up in a bun. He hasn't put his hair up in awhile, he really should - He wraps his arms around Tiergan, swaying on the roof. Bright lights dance across the sky under an eclipsed moon, and the crowd looks lively, but he'd much rather be here - Where is "here?" - Tiergan says something, but the wind drowns it out, and Prentice is too distracted by the windswept blond hair framing the face in front of him. It seems a sight more beautiful than the Prism Peaks. Prentce holds him closer and presses a kiss to the top of Tiergan's head. A few rogue hairs flying in the wind brush against his jaw. 

When Prentice blinks, Tiergan is still in front of him, but they're in their house, not on a roof in the middle of the night. Tiergan isn't saying anything - he must've realized that Prentice was remembering something and not wanted to interrupt it. And Prentice steps forward and wraps him in a hug the same way he had that night, heart pounding in his chest.

He presses a kiss to Tiergan's head, hands brushing his windswept hair.

He wonders how many more memories like this one he'll rediscover one day.

Notes:

idk man i love the idea of prentice slowly recovering some of his memories and cherishing them because he knows just how precious memory is... yeah