Chapter Text
Andrew places the small bouquet of irises down onto the gravestone.
Inside the grave, lay two coffins side by side.
The woman had wished to be buried with her love. If what he had overheard during the funeral rites earlier this afternoon were true, she had been separated from her lover due to their differences in status, unable to meet him until the day he died. An unfortunate story, yet not an uncommon one. Andrew doesn’t know this woman, or what kind of person she was, but he clasps his hands together anyway in prayer. Praying, for their safe journey and the hope that—at least now—the souls of the two lovers are able to find happiness in death that they were denied in life.
Death separates, but death ultimately reunites.
Finishing with a silent “amen”, the grave keeper dusts himself off and backs away from the granite headstone. The sun already is beginning to set and it’ll be even darker soon. He had noticed the storm clouds at bay earlier and figured it would probably be best to make the trek home before they did. There are no other rites scheduled for him today, so he would be able to enjoy supper at a reasonable time.
“Today as well...I hope you’re happy, Luca. May the sun be shining wherever you are now,”
Not a day goes by where Andrew doesn’t think of him.
What brought Andrew to the manor was the hope that he could be understood. It was for this reason alone that he had walked willingly into that hellish “game”. And Andrew had found that understanding, and more, through his companionship with Luca. With that brilliant person, he was never a monster, never a grave keeper; simply a man.
Memory was a fickle thing when it came to Luca. His headaches were an ever-present constant—some days just a mild feeling of malaise, while other days severe and debilitating enough to leave him bed-ridden. Forgetfulness often followed each of those episodes. On good days, forgetting the name of a teammate or the placement of his tools would be the extent of it. On the bad days, faces went unrecognized and entire weeks’ worth of progress would be lost. There was no cure or proper treatment for this ailment of Luca’s. It hadn’t ever been easy, remembering for the both of them, but Andrew didn’t mind. That brilliant mind of Luca’s may have been broken but he loved him all the same.
He loved him, even when Luca’s condition had taken a turn for the worse and he was no longer able to participate in the matches. Loved him, even when Andrew himself had become a stranger in Luca’s eyes. Even so, there was still a place for Andrew in that rapidly deteriorating memory of his.
Until one day there no longer was.
Andrew loved Luca. But it broke his heart knowing that in the end, his love couldn’t change a thing.
So he’d done the only thing he could do.
To save Luca, he had given up his wish.
Money. Fame. Family. The manor ensured the survivors’ continued participation by promising to grant such wishes as rewards for escape. Procuring a treatment for Luca that didn’t yet exist would’ve been an impossible feat by normal standards. Yet, it was entirely within the realm of possibility for the manor, a place ungoverned by the laws of the natural world.
Being deemed unfit to play the game, as Luca had been, would’ve meant never being able to escape. Never fulfilling one’s wish. Andrew wouldn’t have minded spending eternity there within those walls as long as it was with him, but he knows that’s not what Luca would’ve wanted.
For Luca to be happy, for Luca to be able to do what he loved most, for Luca to live—that was worth more to Andrew than any amount of money in the world. It was a difficult decision, but one that Andrew would’ve chosen over and over again.
I’m not worth it, you know?
Luca had been crying, the last time Andrew had seen him. Bawling had never suited a face like his—bright and youthful and meant to house smiles, so different from Andrew’s own. It was a shame that towards the end, the only smiles of Luca’s Andrew could see were through tears.
Oh, but he was worth it. Luca was worth everything, and to this day, still is. Andrew just wishes that he had a chance to say goodbye.
Andrew stops at the foot of the path leading up to his small cottage. He grazes his palm against the petals of the irises lining it. Delicate and resilient.
Like all men who are given a second chance at life, Andrew started nurturing a garden. His garden has already grown to an impressive size. The stalks of the flowers already reach past his knees. He’d picked up a few tricks while tending to the manor’s community garden, of course, but he’s proud of his own efforts. It’s become somewhat of a newfound hobby for a new life.
A life like this, quiet and simple, is fitting for him.
As Andrew gets ready to head indoors, something catches his eye. Amidst his field of irises, is a growing speck of red.
The sun has all but set now, the remains of the golden haze in the sky fading fast. His eyes still can’t see well in low-light conditions, so he squints. All he can make out in the distance is the maroon red of the jacket worn by the figure now traipsing along the path through his iris garden. Red, the color of martyrs.
As the figure approaches, Andrew sees more—a young man with brunette hair tied up in a short ponytail, exemplary posture, and a perpetually half-swollen gaze that stirs up fond memories he’d thought he buried.
He had risen earlier than usual and worked the day away. Perhaps he’s seeing things, being so tired—
“Oh, hello there! Are you perhaps Mr. Andrew Kreiss?”
The voice is cheerful and silvery, and above all, familiar. The apples of the man’s cheeks are flushed slightly, as if he’s arrived in a hurry. And within his smile is the slightest hint of a snaggletooth, adding a crooked yet charming element to it. These are unmistakably the same features that Andrew had loved before, alive and well and standing right in front of him.
“Luca…” Andrew breathes, voice quavering with a mixture of surprise, hope, and a repressed longing. “...Is it really you?”
Every fiber of Andrew’s being screams at him to run up and scoop Luca into his arms, to hold him tightly and to make sure he’s real. Overcome with a dizzying joy, he almost does so, before the other man’s next words cause him to stop dead in his tracks.
“That’s me! My name is Luca. Luca Balsa. I’m the inventor that would be seeking your guidance,”
A hand is extended warmly towards Andrew. The gesture is nothing but friendly, however it strikes a cold pang in his chest.
“ ...I suppose you may call me the ‘Prisoner’. I’ll have you know that though I may be wearing a prison uniform, I am not imprisoned!”
He didn’t remember him.
“I take it that you’ve received my letter! Could it be that you’ve been expecting my arrival?” Luca beams, face falling a bit at Andrew’s silence. “A-are you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,”
If it were not for the shovel at his side, Andrew likely would’ve already keeled over from the shock. Leaning against it as a crutch, he steadies his shaking hands and returns the handshake.
“...Mr. Balsa. My apologies. I hadn’t been expecting your visit.”
“Please, just call me Luca!”
“...Andrew. Just Andrew’s fine.”
“I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time, Andrew. I received a letter in the mail you see, as I was coming back from a dinner party and I rushed here straight away…” Luca laughs boyishly. “I do realize now that I had not dressed in appropriate attire for travel…scatterbrained I am, sometimes!”
Andrew can’t help but feel a little shabby next to the impeccably dressed man, dirt and grime clinging to his work boots and the legs of his pants. Had he’d known, maybe he could’ve dusted off his Sunday best. But how could he have known?
Luca never wore red back at the manor. Always black, white, and other muted colors to hide his bandages and scars. The exception to this was an ensemble of vibrant green for higher ranked matches, but Luca rarely wore that as he claimed it felt like he was dressing up as someone else. It’s almost as if, at any moment, Luca would announce the farce over and explain to Andrew his choice of Hallow’s Eve costume.
Andrew had always thought of red as a rather provocative color. It was the color of his eyes if seen in a certain light, that frightened people. The blood the hunters drew from the injured survivors. Red never was a good color for him.
On Luca, red is vibrant and lively, accentuating the rich brown of his hair and his exuberant smile. Which reminds Andrew, that he should be letting go of the man’s hand now.
“Where...have you been all this time?”
“Well, here and there I suppose. I’d been found near a demolished manor some time ago, unable to remember anything. Strange isn’t it, retrograde amnesia! Recently I’ve received a letter from a Dr. Dyer—an esteemed physician at that—and was told that you had helped me out quite a bit while we were in that manor together. I’d been eager to visit you to express my thanks in person, if not to inquire about the past.”
The face of the Doctor, Emily Dyer flashes briefly through Andrew’s mind. She was one of the kinder survivors in the manor and worked tirelessly to heal all wounds. He remembered the pain in her eyes, too, when she had told Andrew of Luca’s terminal diagnosis.
“There’s no need for thanks…I didn’t do much, really.”
“There you go being modest. Judging from the condition I used to be in, I must’ve been quite the handful! I admit that I had to do some detective work to find you, but I’m glad that I did,” Luca chatters away excitedly. “Could you tell me more about what happened? I’ve a feeling that there could be something useful for my next invention! Ah, but before that, do you know of a nearby inn I could stay the night—”
Almost as soon as the words leave Luca’s mouth, it starts to rain. The small droplets soon turn into a steady downpour, prompting them to run for shelter. The nearest inn was in town and a good ways away by foot.
Even if this is a dream, and this Luca is an imposter, there’s no way Andrew can bring himself to turn his visitor away into the cold. He takes hold of the other man’s wrist and quickly ushers him inside the house.
“I really must apologize for the inconvenience,” Luca says sheepishly, shaking the water off of his luggage case.
“I don’t have much to offer, but I hope you’ll feel at home.”
Andrew hangs up his drenched coat and starts working on a fire, suddenly feeling conscious of the appearance of his dim, barebones home.
“Please don’t mind me! This is fine. If it’s a lighting situation you’re worried about though, I did bring a couple of my prototypes in from the city,” The inventor perks up immediately at the mention, observing the room. “Let’s see...we could probably run some wiring in these walls…”
Light bulbs and other contraptions Andrew’s never seen before tumble out of Luca’s bag as he continues rummaging through it. Had he intended on giving Andrew’s home a complete renovation?
Luca notices Andrew’s undoubtedly horrified expression and assures, “Haha, you don’t have to worry about me boring holes into your abode just yet. I had anticipated this, so it was a good thing I had brought a spare generator with me,”
At somewhat of a loss for words, Andrew is thankful for the vegetable soup that he had left simmering on the stovetop since morning. Bringing it to a boil, he offers a bowl to his supper companion who accepts it heartily.
It’s surreal, seeing Luca talk animatedly across the small table from him after such a long time without; listening to new stories he’d never heard before spill from his lips. The city sounded like a daunting place. But for someone like Luca it was a playground of possibilities. He had been thriving there alone for who knows how long after they had escaped the manor—perfectly fine, without Andrew. There’s a heavy feeling in his chest that Andrew can’t explain as he watches the other man. Better to nip it in the bud.
“Listen, why bother coming out all the way here? I’m not a learned man or a scientist, I just dig graves for a living. I don’t think I’ll be able to help you much with your invention.”
Andrew clenches the fist at his side. Luca had confided in Andrew before, about his dreams and aspirations. So of course Andrew knew about the invention—what Luca spent his life working towards and had sacrificed everything for. What Luca loved most.
Yet there was nothing in the world that made Andrew feel more worthless. Luca had toiled away at his workbench, day in and day out, in the pursuit of his creation. But the passion that brought Luca happiness was also the source of his torment. Andrew hated how helpless he was during those times, unable to offer anything more than to bring supper. If he wasn’t able to comfort Luca then, how would that change now?
“Well, it’s true that inventing requires knowledge, sure, but it’s also about perspective.” Luca strokes his chin in thought. “Sometimes those science types are more concerned with proving whether they’re right, instead of whether their science is right. Having a fresh perspective from someone unacquainted with science, like you say of yourself, is more valuable than you think.”
“So I’m some test subject?” Andrew quirks his brow.
“Instead of test subject, I would call you my collaborator. Why, you could help me reach a breakthrough that other inventors could only hope to achieve!”
“Many of the things that happened in that manor can’t just be explained away by science. Knowing this, could you accept those answers?”
“While I can’t prove the supernatural, I can’t deny its existence either. What kind of inventor would I be if not open-minded?” Luca then adds, “The manor couldn’t be that bad of a place after all, if people like you and Dr. Dyer were there,”
“Do you even know what you’re saying?” Andrew scoffs brusquely, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Well, maybe I don’t. But I’m sure I’ll find out,”
There’s the trademark Balsa stubbornness that Andrew’s encountered so many times before, laced in that smile. It only further serves to prove to Andrew that Luca doesn’t remember a single thing he’d seen within the walls of Oletus Manor.
“So you really have forgotten everything…”
At least now he knows the manor owner had kept their word.
“I’m sorry. No matter how hard I try remembering, I can’t recall a single thing about my time at the manor. Wiped like a clean slate. That’s why I’ve come to you. Would you be willing to help me in this respect?”
Now’s the perfect opportunity to turn him down, to stop Luca from ruining his chance at starting anew. Some part of Andrew begins to loathe Dr. Dyer for ever planting these notions in Luca’s head. Yet there’s so much naïveté—no, conviction—in Luca’s voice, that Andrew can’t bring himself to say no.
“...Sure.”
Perhaps it’s for the better.
“It’s been virtually untouched since the last caretaker had stayed here,” Andrew explains, waving away the dust from the opened attic hatch. There was no extra room in the house for his guest to stay in, save for the unused attic space. It’s far from ideal, but Andrew doesn’t think he’d be ready to handle sharing a room with the inventor just yet.
“Wow, it certainly is spacious! This will work out wonderfully—”
“Wait...!” Andrew’s hands instinctively reach to support Luca’s legs as the other starts climbing up the attic ladder. Luca flinches slightly, either at Andrew’s sudden outburst or the contact, and glances back at him. Unwilling to find out which, Andrew removes his hands quickly, mumbling in an attempt to salvage the situation. “I meant that I’ll help you take these up. If your legs are...”
“That’s very kind of you to offer, Andrew, but I can take these up myself.” Luca says cheerfully. “I understand that I used to have to wear these clunky old braces around since I couldn’t control my legs due to nerve damage. Since I’ve recovered fully from my disorder, though, they’re as healthy as can be. These two legs of mine carried me all the way over here, after all!”
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
“Thank you again, for the impromptu dinner and letting me stay the night,”
“Tomorrow you can pay a visit to the innkeeper in town. For tonight, you’re welcome to make yourself comfortable.” Andrew mutters. “I suppose I’ll be heading to my room now,”
“Good night, Andrew.”
Andrew returns the inventor’s smile, leaving the other man to finish settling in.
It’s indeed Luca, but not his Luca.
This is the way it should’ve always been. Luca forgetting meant he not only wouldn’t have to remember the horrifying manor trials, but also wouldn’t be having those nightmares about prison.
No, Luca had never told him outright about any of those things related to prison. Even though Luca was open with sharing his thoughts about his mentor and his condition, prison was the one topic Andrew wasn’t privy to. And Andrew never pressed Luca further about it. They must have been deeply traumatic experiences, more so than his mentor’s death and the slander that followed.
But Andrew could guess.
He had known that each of those scars on Luca’s body—some where the skin had been carved so deeply that they make the scratches on Andrew’s own body look meek in comparison—were the products of the abuse he had suffered.
And while Andrew knew what it felt like for a man’s pride to become trampled on, he could only imagine what it must be like for that to happen to a man’s dignity— the extent that a man’s mind and body could be violated before he could stand it no longer.
He could only watch helplessly, as his lover thrashed about nightly in the throes of his nightmares, reliving the moments where each one of those scars originated. Cries for help that Andrew couldn’t answer, could not protect him from. He had thought he had known the cruelty of the world, but during those nights he could only blame himself for not knowing enough.
Perhaps it’s a good thing that Luca’s forgotten. God does works in mysterious ways, after all.
Setting his hourglass on his worn nightstand, Andrew completes his nightly prayer to the cross. The house is alive with sounds tonight, of Luca getting settled above in the attic. Listening to these sounds, Andrew drifts off to sleep.
For once in a long time, it’s a good sleep.