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I need to get some rest.
The masked man had been telling himself that for the past several minutes. The alarm clock on his desk ticked forward with mechanical indifference, its movements a stern reminder of how quickly time slipped away from him the longer he put off his rest. He should have shut down an hour ago in preparation for another mission, another charade under King Porky's rule, the threat of unsatisfactory performance looming heavily.
But that was the least of his concerns. He had more important matters keeping him awake, all of which could be traced back directly to the girl resting peacefully against his frame. The Masked man could only assume Rosella was at peace as she slumbered. Today had been a damn emotional rollercoaster for the pair.
No matter how much time passed, the scent of roses followed wherever Rosella went, breaking through the sterility of carefully maintained machinery. And with that scent came a barrage of fractured memories, ones that the Masked Man told himself he wouldn't dare to examine too closely. His heart was stubborn, however, stuck between two different points in time: the present, taking orders without question, and an innocent childhood, thought to be lost to time.
He wasn't supposed to remember, let alone feel. He was the masked man, not Claus, or whoever Rosella thought he was. Still, the way she looked at him, screamed his Claus' name– it taunted the masked man's carefully nurtured apathy, daring it to shatter. When Rosella's pitiful green gaze grew too pained to bear, he'd looked away first. As long as his memories remained foggy, he could never be the Claus her soul sobbed for, yet the risks that came with recovering them would be too dangerous for both him and Rosella.
He could only pretend to be someone capable of returning the warmth she offered without hesitation as he fought against memories of intertwined hands, the sound of gleeful humming, and running through fields of flowers. The masked man turned his attention back toward Rosella's sleeping face, lit faintly by the flickering lights of various devices scattered around the sterile room. She looked so still. So trusting.
He wished he could be worthy of it. He wished his carefully curated world had stayed the way it was. Things were much less complicated when all he had to worry about was carrying out King Porky's orders. Instead, he just laid there. Listening to the clock. Counting the seconds he could never get back.