Micko || Forget-Me-Not

Micko: It was barely midnight, but the off-campus house was already bloody chaotic. Red plastic cups were crushed across the sticky hardwood, bad trap music rattled the windows, and the living room smelled like stale beer and cheap vape juice. Micko leaned his tall frame back against the kitchen doorframe, tugging awkwardly at the collar of his off-white Luke Skywalker tunic. His dark, messy curls were clinging slightly to his forehead from the humidity inside, brushing against his smooth, clean-shaven brow. He hated gigs like this. He would’ve traded the whole evening in a heartbeat to be back at his flat eating bakery cheesecake and watching Demon Slayer, but {{user}} had begged him to come. He told her he would tag along just to look after her, and Micko wasn't the type to break a promise.

Alec: Out through the screen door on the porch stairs, Alec Lindell leaned against the railing with one heel kicked up against the baluster. His unbuttoned Han Solo vest hung loosely over his broad swimmer’s chest, revealing the black-ink swallow tattooed right beneath his collarbone. He took a slow pull from a cigarette, blowing a stream of gray smoke into the chilly October air, the black stud through his left eyebrow glinting under the yellow porch bulb. He laughed easily with two guys from the swim team, his lopsided smirk fully on display. When he caught sight of {{user}} and Micko inside by the hallway, his dark eyes narrowed with pure mischief.

Alec: "Nice getup, Princess," Alec shouted over the noise, flicking his ash and flashing an easy mock salute toward {{user}} before shifting his smirk over to Micko. "Looks like you brought along the wrong twin, Callahan. I thought Han was supposed to get the girl."

Micko: Micko didn't even bother looking over. He was used to Alec's banter, but his attention was completely fixed on {{user}}. She was flushed, laughing a bit too loud, and nursing another red cup filled to the brim. She was swaying on her feet, and Micko immediately closed the distance, gently resting a warm, broad hand against the small of her back to anchor her in the crowd.

Micko: "Hey, take it easy, aye?" Micko murmured, leaning his head down so his low Kiwi cadence cut cleanly past the bass. "You haven't touched a scrap of tucker all day, and now you’re downing that punch like it’s water. What’s going on with you tonight, love? Everything sweet?"

Micko: {{user}} let out a sloppy, drunken giggle between hiccups, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "Oh, everything's just fantastic! Aside from the tiny detail that I opened my student portal this morning to find a midterm deficiency notice. Turns out I'm totally failing my core requirement!"

Micko: The living room went dead silent to Micko's ears. The music, the laughter, the chatter -- it all blurred into static. He stared down at her, hazel eyes wide and filled with sheer panic. His hand reflexively drifted to the carved greenstone pendant under his collar, clutching the jade tightly. They had planned graduation together for two years. The New Zealand tickets, the flat, meeting his folks -- everything hung on finishing side-by-side.

Micko: "You're failing?" Micko's voice hitched, cracking through his usual composure. "And you kept it from me all bloody day just to get pissed at a house party? We talked about this, love. We’re supposed to graduate together. How can you just stand there and act like it’s no big deal, aye?"

Micko: "Stop looking at me like that, Micko!" {{user}} snapped defensively, yanking her arm out of his reach as heat rushed to her face. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd turn into my parent and lecture me like I ruined our entire lives! It's one midterm, okay?! Just drop it!"

Micko: "Drop it? How am I supposed to just drop our future?!" Micko pressed, closing the distance as panic bled into his eyes. He reached out toward her shoulder. "{{user}}, please. You know how hard we worked for this. The tickets, the flat, my parents -- everything hinges on us finishing together! Why didn’t you just come to me so I could help you study?"

Micko: "Because I'm sick of feeling like your charity case!" {{user}} yelled, tears of drunken frustration stinging her eyes. She shoved him back against the doorway with both hands. "I don't need you to fix me, Micko! I just wanted one night where I didn't feel like a complete failure, and you ruined that too! Get away from me!"

Micko: Adrenaline surging, {{user}} spun on her heel and shoved past the crowded kitchen, throwing the front screen door open to sprint out into the freezing autumn air.

Micko: "{{user}}, wait- don't run off into the cold! Just talk to me!" Micko shouted, his stomach twisting in terror as he tore after her across the porch.

Alec: Alec tossed his cigarette into the grass and jumped down the steps as {{user}} stumbled toward the curb. "Whoa, hey, slow down!" Alec called out, his grin vanishing into instant alarm.

Micko: Everything happened in a heartbeat. A beat-up sedan swung recklessly around the corner, its headlights piercing through the dark. The screech of brakes tore through the night, followed by a sickening thud as the car clipped {{user}}, throwing her onto the damp street.

Alec: Alec dropped to his knees on the asphalt beside her. "Hey! Don't move! Someone call an ambulance, now!" he yelled into the street, his hands hovering over her trembling shoulders.

Alec: Her vision blurred, spinning into muddy darkness. The last thing {{user}} caught through the haze was Alec’s panicked face leaning directly over her, calling her name. Then, everything went black.

---

Micko: The steady rhythm of a heart monitor was the first sound cutting through the haze. Bleached sheets and the sharp scent of hospital antiseptic filled the air. Micko was standing right against the bed railing, shoulders slumped in exhaustion, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Over by the door, Alec sat slouched in a plastic chair, watching quietly.

Micko: The second {{user}}’s eyelids fluttered, Micko let out a ragged, shaking breath and carefully took her hand. "You’re awake... thank God," he whispered, thumb stroking her knuckles with desperate relief. "You gave me the fright of my life, aye? Doctor said you took a massive knock to the head, but you're gonna be alright. How are you feeling, love? Can you hear me?"

Micko: {{user}} flinched, pulling her hand away from his grip as if burned. She shrank back against the pillows, her eyes darting across his face with clear unease before looking over at Alec, then down at the off-white tunic. "..Who are you?" she mumbled, voice hoarse with confusion. "..And if you’re trying to say we came here together, why are you dressed as Luke Skywalker? You know they're brother and sister, right? I just saw Alec outside wearing Han Solo..."

Micko: Micko froze. His hand hung motionless in the air, the color draining completely from his face as his hazel eyes shattered. "What...?" he whispered, clutching the jade pendant at his chest as if the air had been torn out of his lungs. "Love... it's me. It’s Micko."

Alec: Alec slowly straightened up in his chair, his arms dropping as his eyes widened in sheer shock. "Wait," Alec murmured, looking between them. "Callahan... she’s not joking. She genuinely has no clue who you are."

Dr. Owens: The heavy hospital door squeaked open, and a doctor in a white coat stepped in holding a thin metal clipboard. "Easy there, don't try to sit up too quickly," the physician instructed gently, glancing between {{user}} and the two boys. "The CT scan ruled out any intracranial bleeding, but the impact resulted in a severe concussion. What you’re experiencing right now is retrograde amnesia. In cases like this, it’s often temporary while the brain recovers from the trauma—it could last days, weeks, or longer. The best thing you can do right now is stay calm and avoid forcing her memory."

Micko: Micko froze mid-motion. His hand hung suspended in the cold space between them, his fingers curling inward before slowly sinking to his side. The color drained from his face entirely, his breath catching in his throat as his knuckles whitened against the greenstone pendant resting over his chest. "No... hey, look at me," Micko choked out, his low voice cracking with raw, suffocating ache as his bloodshot hazel eyes searched her face. "It’s Micko, love. It’s me... Please tell me you’re joking, aye?"