I stormed out of Rian's apartment, unable to accept what had happened. Had he really said all those things? To me? Was he insane, or just stupid?

Obviously not stupid, a traitorous voice whispered in my mind. Based off that Sherlock-esque wave of deduction he threw at you. 

I let out a series of expletives, scaring a weirdly familiar young woman I saw going the way I came. I felt no guilt; that lady should have known better to live in this building, with that—that pisse-froid. No matter how I tried, his words just kept going round and round in my head.

Try and break me, Hanna.

"Asshole!" I yelled, kicking the wall violently as I reached the elevator. I only became more angry when I realized that was the exact same thing I'd done when I was stuck with him in that other elevator, barely a week ago. Why did everything keep repeating itself? 

Are you nervous?

I jammed my finger against the down button, pressing it with more force than necessary but too angry to care. The doors slid open with a ding. I marched inside and instructed it to ground floor, breathing heavily even though there were no stairs in sight.

Almost by instinct—muscle-memory really—I thrust my hand in my coat pockets to find my phone. I wanted to check if it was dead, if the universe was really just playing with me as I suspected. I dug around in the smooth material, searching for it urgently.

Instead, my hands came in contact with a jagged metal edge. I frowned in confusion, my rage temporarily exchanged for curiosity. I grabbed the unfamiliar object and drew it up for me to see.

It was a key.

My frown deepened, momentarily unaware of its significance. What is this? It took a second for the memory to hit: me, snatching Rian's house key off the coffee table, rushing to get the medicine that would later result in disaster. 

"Ugh," I groaned, leaning my head against the elevator in exasperation. In the rational part of my brain, I knew that it would come in handy when I inevitably had to return to this building. But now I was just annoyed at having another piece of him weighing on me—and what was more infuriating was the fact that even after all of that, a small part of me was actually anticipating seeing him again. 

See you tomorrow. Your place this time, right?

The elevator came to a stop and I got off. I chuckled bitterly when I recalled the obsessive guilt I'd felt when I first saw him and all the times after that—for some reason, I could no longer locate that remorse as easily. Typical. The first time in three years that the scars of the past weren't cleaving into me, and it was all because of him.

But isn't that what you wanted? That same treasonous voice found its way into my head again. That's what you told Rokim in the hospital. You said Rian could help you move on.

"Shut up!" I hissed. The few people lingering in the lobby gave me strange looks as I marched outside, but thankfully that annoying inner voice had fallen silent. 

The trip home took about twenty minutes. I barely noticed the rumble of the bus as it pulled up to my stop, or the hum of the now-repaired elevator as it lifted me to my apartment level. The only thing I really paid attention to was the comfort of collapsing into my bed after a very long day. I was tired; still angry, but the constant fury was exhausting. Before I knew it, I was asleep. 

And then the nightmare came. 

No! Rian!

It had changed again. Instead of utter darkness I was assaulted with blinding light. It hurt to look at, but I found myself still stuck in one spot, unable to blink or move. At least that was the same.

I'm sorry. I tried to apologize to the screaming voice, but no one was listening. The searingly familiar burn began to overtake my right side, and I dimly perceived a figure on the floor in front of me. Their face was contorted in agony, their limbs splayed in a million unnatural directions.

I'm no good for you. The memory of Rian's voice pushed through my muddled, terror-stricken mind. But that wasn't right, that didn't belong here, why was that here? A hand closed over my wrist and I stopped thinking as the burn intensified, then doubled, then tripled. I screamed, but not out loud, not for myself. Let me go. Please. Let me save—

Hanna!

My own name jarred me awake. I stifled a scream, settling instead for a shuddering breath. It's okay. It was over, it was gone. The nightmare was gone.

But it was just a lie I told myself, similar to the one you'd tell a crying child, scared of the monster under their bed. The monster might've been fake, a ghost buried in the past, but the memory of that fear never really left.

The sunlight streamed inside and I realized it was already morning. Unlike last time, I didn't deny myself the pleasure of admiring how beautifully the sun lit the room. Even if I couldn't escape the guilt, dwelling on it wouldn't do anyone any good. Apologizing might help, but for me to do that my forgiver had to actually remember what I was apologizing for.

Which reminded me: I had a task to accomplish.

I slid off the bed, eager to wash the cold sweat off my body. As I stepped into the shower, a thought came to me. It wasn't one I hadn't had before, but I'd selfishly ignored it: maybe Rian was purposefully repressing his memories, trying to keep that trauma from becoming fresh again.

The hot water mercilessly pelted my shoulders. It made sense. It would explain how he could forget so much in just three years, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wished for amnesia myself. When the tears finally stopped and I was left feeling numb and empty, all I'd wanted to do was forget.

So yeah, it made sense. The irony was not lost on me: a psych major who may be repressing his memories? How very Freudian, I contemplated drily.

My train of thought persisted even after I got out of the shower and started preparing for the day. Despite my reasoning, there were things that didn't make sense about Rian's supposed memory loss. Things that just didn't fit. 

His knowledge of Apartment 212, for example. I now refused to believe it was simply a coincidence that he'd chosen that particular apartment to live in, or that he had the book on hand. He was probably reading it when he started feeling sick, I realized. The book triggered the fever.

There was his nightmare, too. And that episode I'd had in the elevator. He had been too controlled, too unsurprised by my actions for him not to have known their cause. He hadn't denied the accusation I'd flung at him in the hospital, either. 

Who am I kidding? I thought, amazed it took me this long to solidify my convictions. He's playing with me. He remembers, that fucking—

An abrupt knock on the door interrupted me. I looked up sharply from where I'd been seething on my couch. It was too early for visitors. Rokim, maybe?

I stood and walked over to the door, carelessly pulling it open. "Listen, Rokim, today's not—"

My voice died in my throat as I noticed who was standing in the doorway. Here's a hint: it wasn't Rokim.

Of course it isn't, because why the hell not?

Rian stared down at me, one eyebrow raised at my little case of mistaken identity. He didn't seem impressed. "Expecting someone?" he asked, and I hated how easily his voice made my blood pump faster and mouth go dry.

I ignored his question, instead turning my attention to why he was at my door so early. "You realize that it's 9:00 a.m., right?"

"I figured I might as well get this over with." He smirked icily, which surprised me. Icy or not, it was still a facial expression. Maybe the drugs weren't completely out of his system yet. "Bite the bullet and all that."

"How noble of you," I drawled sarcastically, forcibly suppressing thoughts of what else he could bite, and where else, for how long, and how many times—

Stop! Oh, god, I need to stop.

Rian shrugged, and my eyes were unwillingly drawn to his attire. He'd changed his jacket; this one was black and fitted, not as long as the trench coat. His legs were snugged into ripped grey jeans, ending in combat boots. He looked good.

Delicious, actually. 

That blasted inner voice came to life again, taunting me. I ignored it, but couldn't help the pink tint that rose in my cheeks. Focus, Hanna, I told myself. No, not on that. On the conversation.

"Do you plan on letting me in sometime?"

His query pulled me out of my chagrin, and I scoffed. I could ask him that same question, in a metaphorical sense. But it was fine. I'd drag it out of him, regardless of whether he let me in freely or not. "Come on in," I said, with an exaggerated sweeping gesture inside.

Rian brushed past me, surveying the room like he owned it. I scowled and slammed the door shut behind him. Asshole.

"What's on the agenda for today?" he asked simply, making himself at home on my couch. I counted to ten in my head when he elegantly crossed his mile-long legs, looking me up and down in cold expectation.

I huffed and went over to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. I selected some meat at random, along with a few other ingredients. "Today, we're gonna simulate the ecomp."

I laid out the materials on the counter. "And how are we going to do that?" he asked indifferently. When I turned to throw him a cursory glance, I found him already studying me with a calculating look in his eyes. 

I rolled my own. "I'll tell you in a minute," I promised flatly. "Come here."

Rian raised his eyebrows, but I didn't retract the command. Did he think he was the only one who could throw around orders like they were nothing?

Finally, he stood up. I watched with a sense of hard-won satisfaction as he walked over, stopping at the very edge of the counter. His jaw was tight and his gaze dark, which I chose to take as a good sign. 

I tilted my head towards the spot directly in front of me. "Closer." 

I knew I was poking the beast, but the prospect of going too far didn't scare me. I was actually hoping for it.

Rian's mouth twitched downward, so fast I almost missed it, but it was there. Reluctantly, he took the remaining steps forward until we were less than a foot from each other. 

He doesn't want to get near me, I observed. Is it because of yesterday? Or that day in the hospital?

"Alright, I'm here," Rian said, too controlled. He was tense, not as willing to invade my space as the day before. Which wasn't disappointing to me. At all. "Now what?"

"Now make something," I responded simply. I ignored Rian's momentary surprise and gestured to the materials I'd set out for him. "This is a test run. At the ecomp, we'll have to use whatever they give us and make an original dish. I chose yours randomly."

I nodded at the open fridge and continued. "Choose some for me too. We'll each work separately and then compare notes when we're done."

Rian considered this carefully, peering into the sizeable refrigerator. "Fine," he said, picking out a few ingredients and placing them on the counter. "Done. What's the time limit?"

"One hour. Pretty simple," I replied smoothly, before allowing a vengeful grin to spread over my face. "Unless you'd like to make this more interesting."

Rian had noticed my wicked glee, eyeing me warily. "What do you mean?"

I leaned against the counter lazily, letting my hair spill over my shoulders. "I want something from you. I think I've made that very clear," I began, my devilish grin widening when Rian scoffed in understanding.

"Is this what it's come down to?" Rian asked scornfully, his tone glacial. "Begging for scraps?"

"Far from it," I rebutted. "Because you want something from me too, however much you hate to admit it."

Rian looked away, but I saw that I'd gotten to him. "And what is that?" he asked tersely.

My smile faltered a bit at this part. I pushed on anyway. "You want to be away from me. Desperately, it seems."

His eyes shot back up to mine, part in shock. The other part only affirmed what I already knew: it was desire. The wild desire of a caged animal, offered a chance to escape its hell.

Wow, I thought, a little offended at my own description. I'm not that bad.

"What are you saying?" Rian asked insistently, drawing me back to him.

My taunting grin returned in full force. "I'm saying let's make a bet." I flicked my gaze down to the line of food on the counter. "We'll bring in three impartial judges, just like the actual ecomp. They'll judge whose dish is better, and the winner will receive a prize."

Rian had moved closer. Whether this was conscious or not I didn't know, but I decided to enjoy—no, not enjoy, what was I saying?—his proximity while it lasted.

"And if I win?" he asked, his voice low.

"If you win," I answered, ignoring the stab in my side as I said the words, "then you get rid of me. I'll personally go to Prof and request that he replaces you as my ecomp partner. You're not the only AC in the world, and Prof will do it if I really ask."

Rian paused, absorbing this information. I watched him, suppressing a muted sense of sorrow for something long lost. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and I moved on to distract myself.

"But if I win," I countered, "then I get to ask you a question. And you have to answer truthfully, no matter what."

His eyes narrowed, now only a few inches away. I understood his apprehension; it wasn't exactly difficult to guess what my question would be. But those were the terms.

"So?" I pressed. "Do we have a deal?"

Rian didn't respond immediately. Instead his eyes roved over my face, like he may soon forget it if he didn't. 

"Huh," he murmured, the frost melting momentarily. "You never fail to surprise me."

It was soft. Too soft, like a goodbye. My eyes widened, and the undercurrent of rage I'd been carrying faltered for the first time that day. I wanted to attack the statement, pull it apart and analyze it. But before I could, Rian moved on.

"Alright, Hanna," he said, a tone of finality in his voice. "Deal."

He took a step back, keeping to his side of the kitchen. I did the same, feeling a rush of anger at my own weakness. All it took was a murmur from him and my defences collapsed. It was unacceptable. At least under the current circumstances.

I cleared my throat. "Good. Let me make a few calls, and we'll get started." I grabbed my phone, trying not to contemplate what I'd put at stake. Rian, gone from me. And I had no doubt it would be permanent this time.

I shook the intrusive thoughts away, instead holding the second button in my speed dial. This was it, my very last attempt to find the truth. There was no going back now. I pressed the phone to my ear, grinning when the receiving end picked up.

"Rokim?" I asked brightly, guessing that Rian wouldn't like this and revelling in the thought. "Yeah. I'm gonna need a favour."