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When using a memory eraser, there is a sixty second gap where the subconscious is at it's most vulnerable, and any information fed to a brain during this gap will be internalized. Reagan recalls the memories Ron had to erase when he still worked at Illuminati. Someone saw Princess Diana's clone wandering the city, another accidentally saw Taylor Swift's scales while she was on tour. The most he erased was a few minutes of memories.
Until now, that is. Because apparently, he erased all of his own memories.
"Fuck, Ron. What am I meant to do with you?" Reagan grumbles, spinning in her office chair to face him, who's sitting uncomfortably on the other side of the desk.
Because of the biting tone in her voice, he tenses up, looking away like he's not sure why he's here.
"Who's Ron?" He tilts his head, nervously fidgeting with his hands. "I'm sorry, but what am I doing here?"
Reagan doesn't have the patience to explain. She's not going to start with the memory eraser, because that's not even a product from her company so she can barely describe the basics. She's still too bitter to mention the fact that he impulsively erased his own memories after she… brushed him off. She doesn't even want to think about the fact that it wasn't even her who found him passed out outside her office, it was Brett who had to carry him in and shoot a panicked yell at Reagan's direction when she told him to come back later.
Maybe there's a bit of guilt on her side.
She's just been busy. There's a lot of pressure on her. Sure, being a CEO has always been her dream since she's been able to think, but she's having a hard time balancing everything.
But she doesn't think she's that shitty of a partner that Ron's justified for trying to forget her completely. Right?
"I'm not that shitty of a girlfriend." She voices her thoughts out loud now, because who cares. Ron doesn't know who she is. He doesn't know what she's talking about. "I mean, sure. Sometimes I get so busy that I don't talk to you for days. But I can't help it, there's so much on my plate and I still try to talk to you weekly! Well, our conversations are short nowadays, but-"
But what?
Reagan bites her lip, forcing her to cut her downward spiral short.
She can't remember the last time they went on a date. What she does remember is the last time Ron asked her to go on one, which was yesterday. The day before that. Then several days before that too. Not even dates, but sometimes he'd ask if he can come over and sleep on her bed. She lets him come over, but she never stays in bed, always leaving early to tweak one of her prototypes or draft a blueprint of a sudden idea.
Shit.
Maybe she is a bad girlfriend.
"Are you okay?" Ron's voice suddenly surprises her. So does the sniffle that comes out of her. And the tears falling down her cheeks.
Shit.
"I'm so sorry." For the first time in years, she starts absolutely breaking down, sniffling as she hurriedly tries to wipe her tears. "I'm so, so, sorry."
It's easy to miss, but she catches the way he almost reaches out to comfort her, before pulling his hand back.
"I don't really- Um, should I.. call the guy outside? Brett?" It's almost laughable how awkward he's acting right now. But whatever humor she could find in the situation is gone when she remembers that he's acting like this because he doesn't know her.
Then, with uncertainty so noticeable that she can't help but chuckle before breaking down to sobs, he pushes over the box of tissues towards her.
She takes it.
"I'll fix this. I have to fix this." Reagan promises, not only to him, but to herself. She'll fix this.