Calan blinked, staring at the ceiling. He had one hell of a headache.
Shaking his head, he slowly rose out of bed, battling against the sudden surge of dizziness that rocked his body. He felt.... Weird. All his clothes were way too tight... So tight, really, he felt they were about to bust at the seams. His shirt already has, actually, and... That was weird. Really weird. He hadn't shopped at Hot Topic since he was 13.
Suddenly, everything came roaring back to him. The age change. The memory loss. The edginess. He remembered Versa coming to his home to help him clean, remembered throwing glass across his rooms, remembered her running to the bathroom in sickness... Calan remembered how he'd shoved her aside so many times, 13 years old and without the memory of how he loved her... And how he'd so blissfully forgotten all the... Brooke... His father, his fame, his everything...
The wave of conflicting emotion crashed around him, and Calan gasped against its weight. His eyes stung and his chest was so tight it hurt, but he could do no more than choke. No tears came. They never did anymore. But suddenly, everything from so long ago felt as fresh as if it were no, and the guilt, the overpowering (and really somewhat irrational) guilt of his recent actions poured over him.
He loved Brooke. He did. And she was gone. But.... But he didn't even want to think about that now. He didn't.
Versa was here. He loved her. He really... Really loved her. And she might be gone too.
Oh god.
He grabbed his phone and dialed her number.
Calan didn't care about his job, his music. He was MIA from the scene anyway, his contact with outside limited to song releases and recorded interviews. They'd had enough to substitute for his absence, and, if he recalled correctly, he'd met with them while a child anyhow. A child... It was still so weird to think about.
What Calan was worried about was Versa, because he'd been horrible. God, Calan still had no idea why his powers had goofed so amazingly, but he knew that they'd caused damage... He needed to fix this. He needed to fix it now.
Calan sighed as the call went to voicemail. How the hell would he fix this?
——-
Calan swallowed, glancing around nervously. Two weeks later with not a single answered call and Calan was tired of waiting around. He needed to speak to Versa, at least to explain... At least to see her one more time. So he'd asked around. It took a lot of explaining, but he's finally figured out where Versa lived. Were the weird looks for the fact that it had been so long? Was the pity in their eyes for the fact that she was so hurt? Calan didn't know, but he knew he had to fix it. He knew he had to try.
So Calan approached the doors to the place she was staying. He knocked gingerly, standing in front, dressed well to show his sincerity. He didn't bring a gift. Frankly, Calan was above that point. Gifts were just bribes, and Calan didn't want to bribe her. He cared too much. He wanted this genuine.
Calan took a breath as he waited. He just... Needed to see her.
@Ghost
Shaking his head, he slowly rose out of bed, battling against the sudden surge of dizziness that rocked his body. He felt.... Weird. All his clothes were way too tight... So tight, really, he felt they were about to bust at the seams. His shirt already has, actually, and... That was weird. Really weird. He hadn't shopped at Hot Topic since he was 13.
Suddenly, everything came roaring back to him. The age change. The memory loss. The edginess. He remembered Versa coming to his home to help him clean, remembered throwing glass across his rooms, remembered her running to the bathroom in sickness... Calan remembered how he'd shoved her aside so many times, 13 years old and without the memory of how he loved her... And how he'd so blissfully forgotten all the... Brooke... His father, his fame, his everything...
The wave of conflicting emotion crashed around him, and Calan gasped against its weight. His eyes stung and his chest was so tight it hurt, but he could do no more than choke. No tears came. They never did anymore. But suddenly, everything from so long ago felt as fresh as if it were no, and the guilt, the overpowering (and really somewhat irrational) guilt of his recent actions poured over him.
He loved Brooke. He did. And she was gone. But.... But he didn't even want to think about that now. He didn't.
Versa was here. He loved her. He really... Really loved her. And she might be gone too.
Oh god.
He grabbed his phone and dialed her number.
Calan didn't care about his job, his music. He was MIA from the scene anyway, his contact with outside limited to song releases and recorded interviews. They'd had enough to substitute for his absence, and, if he recalled correctly, he'd met with them while a child anyhow. A child... It was still so weird to think about.
What Calan was worried about was Versa, because he'd been horrible. God, Calan still had no idea why his powers had goofed so amazingly, but he knew that they'd caused damage... He needed to fix this. He needed to fix it now.
Calan sighed as the call went to voicemail. How the hell would he fix this?
——-
Calan swallowed, glancing around nervously. Two weeks later with not a single answered call and Calan was tired of waiting around. He needed to speak to Versa, at least to explain... At least to see her one more time. So he'd asked around. It took a lot of explaining, but he's finally figured out where Versa lived. Were the weird looks for the fact that it had been so long? Was the pity in their eyes for the fact that she was so hurt? Calan didn't know, but he knew he had to fix it. He knew he had to try.
So Calan approached the doors to the place she was staying. He knocked gingerly, standing in front, dressed well to show his sincerity. He didn't bring a gift. Frankly, Calan was above that point. Gifts were just bribes, and Calan didn't want to bribe her. He cared too much. He wanted this genuine.
Calan took a breath as he waited. He just... Needed to see her.
@Ghost
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