Work Text:
The empty canvas stared back at him. For the third night in a row, Ali hadn’t slept. The clock ticked past 3AM, and the room was filled only with the faint scratching of his pencil against paper. Li9nes curved into soft features—the slope of her nose, the arch of her brow, and her smile. That smile he could never forget.
Or rather… the smile she had forgotten.
Alicia.
The name still clung to his throat like broken glass every time he said it. The brilliant, stubborn, sarcastic Alicia who once teased him for being reckless, who once saved his life without hesitation, now looked at him like a stranger.
Her memory… gone. Their years together at M.A.T.A., the fights, the secret handshakes, the small, rare moments where her sharp eyes softened just for him—all erased in an instant.
Since the accident, Ali had not been the same.
The others noticed. Bulat said he barely spoke. Khai tried to distract him with missions, but he decide want to take a breakfor a moment, from mission. His uncle, Bakar, warned him, "You have to move on, Ali." But how could he, when the person he loved most couldn’t even remember his name?
So he painted.
Portrait after portrait. Her laughing. Her focused expression when explaining strategies. Her narrowed eyes when she was annoyed at him. Each brushstroke was a desperate attempt to hold onto fragments of a life that now felt like a cruel illusion.
But the smile… that was the hardest to capture.
Some nights, he succeeded. Other nights, the tears blurred the colours until her face vanished entirely. His insomnia worsened. The dark circles under his eyes became permanent, and the spark—the infamous reckless, overconfident spark of Ali bin Ghazali—flickered dangerously low.
He wasn’t Ali anymore. Just… a shell. A boy painting ghosts.
Yet, slowly, almost without realising, change crept in.
It started small. After months Alicia come back to school and live like a normal. Civilian who do not know mata existed, she seated across Ali , glanced at his handsome face and asked quietly, " Hi what your name ? "The question make his heart aches she still doesn't remember him. "Ali, my name is Ali nice to meet you". For her sake this is the only answer he can give right now
Then, one evening, he caught her lingering near the library, watching him reading . Her expression puzzled, frustrated—as if she want to say something to him.
Moments like that grew. She began asking questions.
" Are we ever meet meet before?. Your face feels familiar"
Ali still had insomnia even he go to therapy but he improving. His smile was weak, rare. But the paintings became less desperate and more… patient. Less about clinging to the past, try move on
He would help her remember.
And even if she never did, Ali realised, through the brushstrokes, the late nights, and the ache…
He will make new memory with her. I should be thankful that she still alive. If otherwise maybe I will go crazy enough to kill cero for good
Even if the colours fade, I’ll paint them again. Until you find your way back to me."
Thought she may not remember yesterday or the day before that. I'll spend a lifetime to create new memories together with her