Memo was tired. The Crater explorations always left him drained, and to make matters worse, he was constantly reminded of its presence, where it beat and warped the air around it, deeper in Fortree. They could see it from the sanctuary.

Alex’s voice was low and dangerous-- but Memo, long since lured into ease with his boyfriend, paid it no mind.

“Um, no,” he snorted, reaching for the rooftop door, “I’m going to take a shower, like I just said. And you’re welcome to join me.”

Maybe he hadn’t been obvious enough. Maybe they were both overtired.

He did pause at the command, turning around to look at Alex with incredulously knit brows.

“I’m sorry? I don’t know what I did to make you mad, but can we talk about it later, please? I’m exhausted.”

[attr="class","membot"]Alexei Ivanov

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

Memo stood in the doorway with the thing half open, his internal, subconscious anxiety at letting all the AC out momentarily put on hold by the strangeness of Alex’s behavior.

He squints, confused, thinking back over what he thought Alex was talking about: their most recent trip to the crater. But Alex hadn’t lost his sight there, had he?

“I don’t… I’m sorry. When did you…”

He trailed off, realization dawning on him, slowly. Like a hit to the head.

“Unless you mean…”

Then. Then. Memo’s stomach lurched, like he’d just taken a gutpunch.

“I’m so confused. Why are you bringing this up now? We’ve talked about this. At length.” And he didn’t not want to go through it, necessarily, it was just so strange. He’d said his piece and cried himself out and felt horrible about it and Alex had basically told him to stop martyring himself about it. Memo wasn’t stupid enough to totally let himself off the hook, but he’d thought, at least, he’d been forgiven.

At any rate, he’d long ago explained himself and didn’t so much know why Alex was picking now to go sifting through dirty laundry. And he did think, maybe, slightly, that Alex wasn't acting normal, but he didn't want to point that out for fear of it seeming like he was changing the subject, being shifty, or avoiding blame. If Alex wanted to have it out with him right now, Memo would bow his head and take his lashings.

But still. He wanted to know why.

"Did something happen? In the rift?"

[attr="class","membot"]Alexei Ivanov

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

He didn’t understand. Alex was talking in circles, and Memo was lost. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Despite his antagonistic behavior, Alex’s face flashed with pain, and Memo was walking forward with his hands outstretched, the open door and bath and rest forgotten. He hovered his hands, inches away from touching.

“Are you okay?” Memo knows Alex's isn't but he still can't help but ask, his innate nature to care overpowering his fear and dread.

[attr="class","membot"]Alexei Ivanov

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

Memo had become a different person when his compassion had been deleted in the Cloud, all those long months ago. And for a long time, the awful images of what he’d done, what he’d said, had lived at the forefront of his brain, bright like screaming sirens, hot irons he used to torture himself and make sure he never forgot.

But Alex had been a balm. Alex had told him it was okay because he didn’t remember, anyway. It was okay, he was forgiven, it was okay, it was okay.

Over time, Memo had let himself forget, a little. Let the edges seam together, scar up, and fade. Just a little. Just enough to give him the smallest bit of peace.

“I told you,” he said, trying to find his footing though the world around him was beginning to crumble and shake, “I told you I had been changed. That I should have been with you and protected you better. Verbatim, I’ve said that.” He swallowed, dropping his hands like they’d been burnt. “You told me it was alright. That it already happened. Why are you bringing it up now?”

Still, he can’t argue the truth when it is so shining and sharp.

“Yes. That’s why Gabe hates me. But I was different. I was changed.”

[attr="class","membot"]Alexei Ivanov

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

He was very tired, but even on a normal day, without the bone-deep exhaustion dragging at him, this kind of weirdness would be too much to put up with.

“What is your deal?” he asked in an uncharacteristic snap. “What are you talking about--,”

Then Alex’s voice changed-- REALLY changed, and his hands grabbed onto Memo, one hard on his forearm, the other tangling in the front of his shirt. He doubled over, eyes creasing with pain.

“...Alex?”

Like gravity, the two were drawn together. Even if Alex had just spent the last ten minutes being rude and abrasive, Memo still went to him, one arm wrapping around his partner’s waist, the other pressed against his chest, where Alex’s fluttering heartbeat sounded under his palm.

“What is going on?”

Memo may not have known what to do, but someone did. From behind him, something clicked, and, like an angel, Zuza appeared in a beam of sparkling light. She surged forward and placed the tip of her horn to Alex’s chest, above Memo’s hand. A soft, pink glow flowed from Pokemon to human, as she began to pull the broken barriers together in his mind with her psychic and emotional prowess.

[attr="class","membot"]Alexei Ivanov

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

He feels useless, and he hates it, hovering just slightly away, unsure of what Zuza’s actually doing and unwilling to go too far.

For being significantly shorter than Alex, Memo was surprisingly well versed in catching him when he fell, as demonstrated by how he managed to bundle most of his boyfriend’s body to his chest and lower them both down to the roof in a slow and controlled manner.

He pushes Alex’s sweaty hair out of his eyes and says through grit teeth, “What is going on.”

[attr="class","membot"]Alexei Ivanov

[attr="class","memboc"]☉