Chapter Text
It's almost a week now since he told Peppino about his memories. Since then he's been staying at his place, sleeping on a couch that's just big enough to fit him.
It's a lot better than sleeping on a chair, slumped on a table, that's for sure. Even with his lack of bones he could still recall how his spine would've felt.
But right now it's late at night and even though he should be getting some rest, his brain decided that now's the perfect moment to be filled with so many thoughts and questions.
So sometimes he just stays up and thinks.
There's a lot on his mind, but right now the main thing on it is:
Being filled with memories that aren't exactly yours sure does comes with some side effects.
Memories are strange, aren't they? They make up so much of who you are, yet they're easy to trick, to replace, to forget, to fool.
He remembers a conversation he had with Peppino. He asked him if he ever felt a sort of... yearning? He couldn't explain what it was, but since it kept happening when he stares at some of the old family photos or that one time he felt it when he smelled something that Peppino was cooking at the time, he had to ask.
Peppino explained to him that he's feeling nostalgia. Which when it was explained what it was, it confused him.
So there's a part of him that misses Italy. He's technically right when he says that it's because it's his homeland, that's where Peppino was born and raised from.
But he remembers the place where he was made. The cold lab, surrounded by tubes filled with clones like him. The artificial lights and stale air. Security cameras and judgemental stares.
He stayed in an imitation of his bedroom for a while, but... that didn't last.
So his home was the abandoned restaurant, filled with nothing but broken promises and dreams. Waking up to the same purple walls and worn down tables as he struggles to survive. Still thinking he was living a normal life, just stuck in a nightmare that he didn't know how to escape.
He's out now. Living with Peppino. He sleeps in the living room since the sight of his bedroom brings him back to the false room he stayed in the tower. He's not there anymore. The tower is just a pile of rubble now.
Looking around, there's an old picture that's framed on one of the walls. It's a scenic view of a countryside.
He knows where it is just by instinct.
He has never been there.
He has never been a child.
Yet the picture makes his nonexistent heart ache. Makes him recall memories of warm summer days, playing with his friends.
They've just started their first days of summer vacation after many months of school. Finally free from classes and teachers.
So they played around all day long. The only time they had to worry about is when they're going to go home to their parents.
One of them had the bright idea of running through their small town, and even though they just spent most of their time playing games and they're drenched in sweat.
One last run wouldn't hurt.
So they ran.
Smelling the salty scent of the sea as they ran past the local fishermen hauling their nets full of the fish they caught.
Giggles filling the air as they pass by sweet-smelling flowers, full of brightly colored petals. Some are in gardens and others are hanging in pots.
Seeing the rays of the setting sun as he said good bye to his friends for the day. He's tired and hungry, but still filled with joy.
Coming back home to his Madre making dinner. Listening to his parents as they talk about work as he takes another bite of pasta.
Hearing her compliment his hands when they baked together. His Padre giving him praise and telling him how good of a chef he'll be one day.
Receiving a little kiss on the forehead as they tuck him in bed. Not being able to sleep, excited for the next day.
He remembers the faces of people he has never met. Places that he's never been to. Holidays and events he's never experienced.
Sometimes he ends up melting from thinking about the fact that he'll never get to truly meet the people in his memories. That his first and last experience with them would only be through his thoughts about them.
He could never feel their hands, never hear their voices, and never see their smiles in person.
And even if he could. They don't know him, specifically.
It's their shared past, but his view of it is a lot happier compared to what Peppino told him.
He didn't say much, but he was a lot different as in the past compared to him now.
Someday he'll work up the courage to ask him more about it.
Some part of him wonders if this is his mind's way of coping. If the more negative memories are still there, but are purposely locked away just so there's a past he could look back on and have positive feelings for.
And sometimes he wonders if he was supposed to remember anything at all or if it was just luck that out of all the clones, he's the one that also has memories of his past life.
Is it better for him to feel this? Is he denying his past as a clone or is he, Peppino just reminiscing about the past? A past that he has never experienced himself.
He looks at the clock. It's past midnight. He needs to be up early for work.
Adjusting his position on the couch, he thinks of one last thing before going to sleep.
He hopes to be able to visit Italy someday. To make his own memories of it. Would be nice to have a memory of it that's his own.