– Monday, May 14th, –

I'm starting to realise I am a lucky person on Monday, the day I am checked by a doctor and am told I can go home to recover further. My motoric skills are still weak, I am tired easily, and I'm confused still – worse even since I spoke to Gerald before weekend started.

But I'm cleared and allowed to go home little over a month after being in an accident. Though I'm late compared to Oliver-who-ever-he-may-be, since I heard he left before the weekend.

I've been pondering over my nightmares about drowning, writing the same nightmare down each morning as soon as I woke up.

Much to my displeasure, Finnley, after storming out of the room on Friday, hasn't visited me once ever since. He wasn't there in the chair when I woke up, he wasn't there to have breakfast with, he wasn't there reading in my room while I was doing my own thing; just for the sake of being in the same room.

I asked my parents and Stan about him, I asked the nurses about him, the doctor even, but all told me he was working on his own recovery. Annette, one of the main nurses, whispered to me that Finnley had a setback that caused him to have a couple of really bad days, and told me to not tell anyone she told me about it – she isn't allowed.

I was thankful for her honesty anyway and kept it to myself that I knew Finnley was having bad days.

And I got worried worse about him because if that, and the fact even I'm allowed to go home, and he's still there. I know his bad days, his set back started after I reminded him I'm dating Stan, even if I had feelings for him previously.

I still do, but I must have forgotten why I stayed with Stan instead of being with Finnley.

I just can't remember.

And than there's the fact Stan hasn't visited me on Sunday and isn't here to pick me up from hospital today either. I want to text him, but I still haven't gotten a new phone, while the old one was never found after the accident.

I also started noticing, and call me suspicious here, how no one else calls it an accident, but they all say 'car crash'. It had me wondering, since Oliver-who-ever-he-may-be wasn't at fault in the accident, if there's more to that story than I'm being told.

But, as instructed by Gerald, I push those thoughts and feelings of frustration aside, allowing my mind to decide the pace of remembering things.

I'm silent all throughout the ride home, while mom tells me how they moved back my furniture from the apartment I apparently share with Nathan, to make sure I would feel right at home and I would still recognize my room.

I guess I would think it's weird if I wouldn't come home to a room I remember. It would be weird for it to have changed.

But I'm also warned they bought new furniture for the living room and they haven't been able to change it back to the furniture from two years ago, since my aunt and uncle took it from them and their house burned down about a year ago.

So, once we're home, it's weird. Because the house is exactly the same, but the inside looks different from what I remember.

At least, the living room does. The kitchen is remodelled, the hallway painted in a different colour, and it all is a bit overwhelming.

"Just... do what you want to do." Mom cups my face, pressing a kiss on top of my head. "And if there's anything you need, or need us to change, just tell us, okay?"

I nod, biting my lip because I want to tell them I need answers, but again pushing those thoughts aside as I slump down on the unfamiliar couch, pulling a blanket around me and curling into the corner of the couch, staring at a painting I once made in high school that is now in a list on the wall. I still remember making the painting, and how my teacher, my classmates, but mostly Finnley thought it was gorgeous.

I remember how Finnley sent me an impressed look when he first saw it and told me he didn't know I had any talents, joking around as always, since I had lots of talents to show off.

I smile at the memory, suddenly tired and sad because all I can remember is being best friends with him, not knowing about his feelings for me. Not remembering what happened ever since I found out about said feelings, and not knowing what to do to feel less confused.

It's all I do for a while; sit, stare and allow memories I do have to fill my mind. Memories about hanging out with Finnley, with other friends, with Emma. How I dated Stan, how I hung out with Felix a lot in the last weeks I remember.

And than I head up to my room, now rested enough to climb the stairs, knowing I will need to lay down first to recover from doing so, but at least feeling safe in my room.

It's familiar, it's exactly the same as I remember, and I wonder if mom and dad used pictures to make it look like it again. But than again, I know my room stayed the same for years, the only change I made had been a new bed.

I lay down on the bed, and stare towards the ceiling tiredly, wanting to text any of my friends to ask them to come over, but not having the possibility to do so.

At least, I do have a computer, though it isn't the same I had two years ago. I wonder if I have any contact information on there that could help me out right now.

I grab the laptop, putting it on the bed beside me, opening it, typing in the password I always used.

And than realising I must have changed it somewhere in the last two years, and I have no idea what it is right now.

I should hack it, and somewhere deep inside me I know I could, with the right programs and a second – accessible – computer.

But I have neither.

And I never hacked any computers, so how would I know how to?

Did I do it in the last two years and is my feelings, my gut instinct that tells me I need a second computer and certain programs a faint memory?

It's not so much a memory as it is a feeling, but it's there.

And isn't that something?

So, I write it down, agreeing with myself to discus the difference between this feeling, and a real memory with Gerald tomorrow.

* * * * *

I watch as Stan carefully steps into my bedroom, taking in the room before he puts down his backpack, waving his hands back and forth right afterwards.

"Hi." I pull up my head as I am laying on my stomach with my head on my arms. I push myself up in my elbows. "Where have you been?"

"Busy a bit..." He shrugs, slowly walking towards me, sitting on the foot end of the bed as if he feels out of place.

"Good to see you too." I drawl sarcastically, now sitting up fully, turning to look at him. "No hug, no kiss? No nothing?"

"Oh.. eh." He scratches his head before he leans in to peck a kiss on my lips.

It's quick, his lips barely touching mine as he pulls back again.

"Okay, what's going on?" I grumble, throwing aside the puzzle book that I used to keep myself entertained. "You're acting weird, have been for a week."

"Nothing's wrong, babe..."

"You called me cute, not babe." I remind him, sending him a look to tell him I'm onto him. He is acting way different from what I remember. "We used to be way closer. What changed? I need to know.

Stan clears his throat, sending me an apologetic look. "I'm not supposed to tell you anything..."

"Bullshit. You don't want to tell me. I can tell the difference. You're uncomfortable, you avoid eye contact. If this was about you not being allowed to tell, you would've at least looked right at me. You're lying."

"I'm not lying, I'm really not supposed to tell you anything."

"Yet, you told me various of things in the past week, just not why you're acting different."

"We're two years older, Cris... I just changed." Again, he didn't look at me when he said he just changed.

"Lie."

"Cris..."

"Stop Lying, and I'll stop calling you out on your lies."

Stan sighs, and lets himself fall backwards on the bed, he's nervously biting his lip, staring towards the ceiling, and I decide to join him, laying down next to him.

"I spoke to Finnley."

"When?"

"Friday."

"He's been having bad days..." In my peripheral vision I notice him turning his head to look at me, and I turn mine to look back at him. "What did you talk about?"

"How he loves me, and said I loved him back."

"You use past tense."

"Which isn't right, right?" I chuckle awkwardly, sighing deeply. "I feel like I still do, but then again I feel so... at home in your arms that it doesn't make sense."

"Answer right away, don't doubt, don't overthink. Just yes or no..." Stan bites his lip again, before he asks his question. "Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes." I laugh out, knowing it's stupid. How can I love two guys at once? I'm not even sure how I came to accepting these feelings in the first place.

"Love me, or are you in love with me?"

Now I'm the one biting my lip, thinking about his words.

"Answer, no thinking."

"I don't know, Stan..."

"Which is a no." Stan suddenly pushes himself back up to a seating position, going on to get up and pace through the room. "If you love me still, you would know." He comes to a full stop to send me a look. "If you had to pick, me or Finn? Who would you pick?"

I swallow. "My head says you, but my heart... I can never pick anyone over Finn." I whisper, suddenly sad and angry at once.

"Cris?" Stan takes in a very deep breath, holding it in for a while, before he breaths out again. "You did break up with me."

"When?" I'm not even that surprised. It feels right to be with him, but in the same time, it doesn't feel right at all.

"Almost two years ago." Stan mumbles, slumping down on the desk chair tiredly. "And I moved on, but then you woke up and your dad called me and said you didn't know any better than still being with me and there was this... hope?" He taps his chest. "I still love you, and I think I always will..."

"But?"

"It isn't mutual, and I'm... in love with Nathan."

I snort and laugh out, covering my face with both hands. "This is a mess. You hatedhim two years ago."

"And than this oblivious, dense but cute idiot forced us to become friends and than he... lost himself and we needed to work together to keep him together and I don't know. It just happened and it feels so right."

I turn my head to look at him with a small smile. "The oblivious, dense but cute idiot is me, huh?"

"Yeah..." Stan nods, suddenly looking like he's fighting back tears. "I... wanted you to love me still, but over the course of a week I fought with Nathan so many times, because he knows I still love you and it killed him that I needed to play along. And I'm not supposed to tell you any of this, but I do love Nathan, just... differently from you."

"In which way different?" I'm not asking because I'm hoping he loves me more, but because I do feel love for him, while I know my heart yarns for Finnley, to comfort him, hold him, kiss him.

Jump him if I would have the strength.

If Stan can explain the difference in love he feels for me and Nathan, I might be able to understand my own feelings better too.

I need to know if I loved Finnley, love him, more than I love Stan.

"You're always on my mind whenever I'm not with you. I want to see you happy, I want to protect you, I want to hold you..." He sighs deeply. "I want to be with you, which is why Nathan and I decided to take a break. I'm figuring out what I want, and I think... you should do the same."

"So, we're done?"

Stan huffs and that's when I notice him crying and it's weird. In my mind, Stan never cries. "We're not done until you say we're done." He whispers sadly. "If you want to be with me, I will be with yours, always."

"So..."

"You need to decide, Cristian..." Stan chokes out, taken completely by his sadness. "I wanted you back for two years and I kept telling myself you didn't love me, but you do to some degree and I would do anything to get another chance to show you my love." He pushes himself up from the chair, sending me a desperate look. "I love you, Cris. And I always will."

I watch yet another guy leave me behind in my room with tears in his eyes, wondering how much of a mess my life has been in the past two years. How did I end up leading on two guys in the same time?

And more importantly, how am I going to figure out what I want?

Be with Stan, or be with Finnley?

No matter if either of them would take me back, I need to figure it out for myself too.

All in the same time figuring out what I miss in memories, what happened to Finnley, with Stan, in my entire life.