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“Is the bed… not to your liking?” Atuarto fidgeted with the pointed cap in his hand.
Galga was sitting in a bed that would likely snap if he so much as laid down. He leaned forward and the bed rocked on its uneven legs. He had not looked up from his shoes from the moment he sat down.
Atuarto sighed. Galga was trying to be polite. Even with his memories gone, his tells remained behind. It reminds Atuarto of when they first started to live together. Atuarto was not much of a cook, but he picked it up so that Galga wouldn’t have to prepare food for them all of the time, what with his work with the Knights Moralis often keeping him away for days at a time. One evening when Galga returned after 2 consecutive nights of work, Atuarto set the table with some husk potatoes with a savory tomato sauce that Galga had made before. The second Galga took a bite, his eyes darted every which way and he was extremely silent until Atuarto asked him how it tasted. Galga looked like he had been caught up in his own ribbon.
After that, Galga took the mantle and taught Atuarto his ways in the kitchen. Then, they were able to laugh at themselves, with Atuarto taking back his laughter to pout whenever Galga recalled his rough start to cooking.
Atuarto isn’t fighting back laughter now.
“It wasn’t built for an adult,” Atuarto set his cap on the desk next to him. Even that would not be fit for Galga. He was much too tall. “Usually ateliers have two students in a room, and they are typically children or young adults. I tried combining both beds together, but I am afraid I had neither the time nor the carpentry knowledge to arrange something more fitting. I hope it will be alright for now, until I can put in a request to the Assembly.”
Galga turned and pressed his hand into the crack between the mattresses. The wood underneath made a creaking noise that Atuarto did not trust in the least. He pushed himself back to face Atuarto again.
“I think… I could fix this.”
“Oh?” Atuarto’s fingers fiddled with the brooch on his chest. “Do you remember how to build things like that?”
“I believe so,” Galga tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “...or perhaps I could figure out how if the tools were presented to me.”
Atuarto allowed the tears to gather at the edge of his vision.
It was Galga who was sort of a handyman for the Assembly. Whenever a witch needed a repair for their atelier or a magic contraption, Galga would do his best to fulfill those requests in between assignments for the Knights. Atuarto is not sure of how it works, but Galga had once mentioned to him that the memory-altering glyphs they use on criminals erase all memories related to magic. Perhaps, he retains the muscle memory of working on furniture using non-magical tools. After all, he was able to somewhat navigate the Silver Night Festival, amidst all the chaos, so it is not that absurd that he would remember some sliver of construction knowledge (or so Atuarto allows himself to hope).
Atuarto has been wanting to prod Galga on what he does and doesn’t remember, but he is more than hesitant. Galga, somehow, accepted his offer to live with him, to study under him, and to return to the world of witches with his guidance. Yet, Atuarto can’t help but feel that he is crossing a line whenever he asks. Without asking, he cannot know what Galga remembers, he knows. But something clutches at his throat when he sees Galga, who used to move with aplomb no matter the situation, look around with confusion and discomfort drawn across his face, and maybe fear that he does not show. Not knowing who he is or about the world he lives in has stripped him of all of his agency, as far as witch society is concerned. Ever since that festival, Atuarto’s heart has ached with the lack of power he has in this situation.
He just barely saved Galga from being sent to Adanlee, an island where those whose memories were erased by the Knights are confined. What if he regards this as another such prison? Atuarto hates seeing him suffer so, especially when this was the result of him going out of his way to do good. A part of Atuarto wished he had been able to convince him to stay back, to let the other Knights handle it; that part of him rested with the fact that Galga would never choose to be a bystander. And he would never change that for the world.
“Professor Atuarto?”
“Huh? Oh!” Atuarto took his glasses off and wiped his face. His tears had flowed down his cheeks, which were now burning hot. “Sorry about that. Um, I think I could give you a quick run-down of the foundations of magic until we can have a proper lesson! Let me see…” He put his glasses back on and dove toward the desk drawers. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. Perhaps a pen or parchment paper would do, or maybe a contraption that he could demonstrate for him. Each drawer he opened was empty, empty, and empty.
Atuarto felt a hand on his shoulder and froze.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.” Galga retracted his hand. “I only… If it’s alright to ask, what were you thinking of?”
Atuarto’s breath caught somewhere in his chest. Somehow, he willed himself to face Galga and by the skies, he almost wished he hadn’t. His eyes, far from disoriented, were stern with the concern he shouldn’t have in his place. Atuarto felt so weak at that moment for allowing Galga to see him like this, and he still chooses to show concern or care despite his whole world slipping from underneath his feet. His nature had not changed, even though Atuarto has not become the rock that he wished he was for him.
Galga reached out his hand. Atuarto stared at it for a moment before accepting it. As he placed his fingers in the palm of his hand, Galga’s other hand came to envelop his. He traced circles around Atuarto’s knuckles in silence.
Atuarto fought the tears back from spilling all over their joined hands. Even still, he wanted to push himself to ask once more. He must ask. When he looked up at Galga, they locked eyes.
“Are you truly alright with this arrangement?” Atuarto squeezed one of Galga’s hands. “I know that I was the one who suggested it, but I hope that you’re not uncomfortable with the idea. I mean, living here with me, and everything. If there is anything I can do, then please, tell me.”
Atuarto felt like he was going to evaporate if they held this eye contact much longer. But he had to put that aside. He had to make sure of Galga’s feelings above all.
“I cannot say I’m in the best situation, where I’d have the ability and knowledge to choose the best path with surety. I don’t have enough memories to make sense of all that I see, nor what I feel.” Galga squeezed Atuarto’s hands back. “Despite that, I sense that I am familiar to you. You are going out of your way to prevent me from having to fend for myself in a life I do not recognize. I see that I am, or whoever I was , is important to you.”
Atuarto bit his lip. He felt like he wasn’t breathing, like there was nothing in this world other than Galga and his voice. It’s almost surreal. This body is Galga’s and that voice is Galga’s, but is this… Galga? Atuarto wants to say yes, but he does not know what Galga thinks. If before his memories were erased, and the current him is different, then how can they be one and the same?
“I admit that I do feel like I’m a burden to you.” Galga looked down at their hands. “I’m afraid to say that, even so, your kindness from that day on has been anything but unwanted. Your help and comfort have assured me that even if I do not remember it now, I have a place in this world. I would like to enjoy your kindness and support as I learn to be. If that is not too selfish of me.”
Atuarto almost chuckled. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined Galga would be capable of such a candid request. In a way, it’s almost endearing… Atuarto would bring down the heavens for him if he asked.
“My lo—Galga.” Atuarto placed his other hand on top of Galga’s, so now both of their hands were clasped together in an embrace. He almost slipped and called him by a term of endearment, which was so familiar to his tongue, but foreign in Galga’s ears. For now, they have no such relationship. Atuarto has taken him in as his apprentice, as his equal. As his family. There is work to do.
Atuarto took both of their hands and raised them high.
“What are you…” Galga said. He looked between their hands and Atuarto.
Atuarto felt a twinge of sadness. He had hoped that, by chance, Galga would remember this. He hoped for a flicker of familiarity, some sign of recognition. There was the chance that he had performed this handshake with an Unknowing before, but alas, Galga did not move.
In that case, Atuarto will teach him.
Atuarto squeezed his hand before letting go. Galga followed and let one hand free as Atuarto twisted their arms together, their hands further entwined and facing the other. He leaned forward, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead on Galga’s knuckles. When Galga did not move, Atuarto placed his free hand on the nape of his neck and gave a gentle press.
“This is a Promise Handshake. We do this when we swear on our heart of hearts. It is an oath of utmost importance.” He felt Galga’s forehead press against his own hand and opened his eyes to see Galga’s own staring right back. His eyes were unwavering. Atuarto looked into his eyes and found a warmth he had not felt in a while. There were slivers of gold woven with brown which gave his eyes this otherworldly gleam that Atuarto loved to look at, as if he could memorize the patterns.
“I swear to you, Galga,” Atuarto continued his vow, “that I will care for you to the best of my ability, no matter what challenges we may face. You were never and will never be a burden to me, so, please… I beg you to rely on me as much as you like, and then some. Should you wish not to stay by my side, I will respect that. However, I will always be here for you, and I will do everything in my power to grant you the ability to have a fulfilling, happy life.”
Truth be told, Atuarto wouldn’t want Galga to leave his side. Nevertheless… This Galga may have different feelings in the future. As a teacher, he cannot refuse a request to transfer in any case. He wouldn’t want Galga to feel trapped with him, solely because they were close in the past. Truly, he meant what he said. He wants to give Galga the knowledge, skills, and space necessary to be able to rebuild his life as a witch again, even if that means things won’t go back to how they were. That’s the least he could do for him, and he will endeavor to do more if he can.
“Atuarto.” Galga began. “From the moment I awoke with no recollection of where I am or who I was, you have been there to guide and comfort me. I hate that as I am now, I am of no use to you, nor to myself. I have no idea what may lie ahead. Regardless, I trust you. I will never fail you, for you have saved me from oblivion and continue to support me. I promise to you, Atuarto, that I will not leave your side. For as long as you will have me, I am under your care.”
Atuarto cannot see Galga; his glasses are foggy, and his cheeks are hot with tears anew. Although, he does not feel as ashamed now. Even with Galga looking straight at him as he fails to compose himself, he feels no guilt. After all, he is only able to be so moved because he cares for Galga more than anything in the world. He will not allow him to give him his trust in vain.
When the tears no longer hold his throat taut, Atuarto looks at Galga with a smile.
“We have a way of ending these promises. It’s an oath by itself, too.”
Atuarto closed his eyes again and brought his other hand up, so he could hold Galga’s hands with both of his own. He squeezed tight. Of course he would have Galga, for as long as he possibly could. Atuarto will never let go. As he opened his eyes, he pressed his forehead against Galga’s hand.
Galga was looking at him, as he had been this whole time.
Atuarto refuses to let him down. As long as he continues to look to him for support, he will give all that he can.
“May our paths intertwine.” Atuarto tried to lower their hands, but Galga kept them firm. He covered Atuarto’s second hand and pressed his forehead against their combined hands.
“Yes,” He looked up at Atuarto and returned his smile. “May our paths intertwine.”