He was gone in the morning.
I'd been searching every nook and cranny of the house in the hopes of finding something-a note or any personal belonging that would indicate he didn't leave. Anything to deny his departure. Anything to betray this unfunny joke.
There was none. Futile was what it was.
After the third throughout inspection of house, I'd debated whether to redo it, in case I'd been still missing something. In the end I decided against it after considering the other option: Compared to doing the same thing over and over, an outside search -especially asking people around- would be more effective.
So I did that- left the house, asked anyone I ran into about Lear, even induced them to let me know if they were to see Lear. I got the impression there were less people around than usual, though I wasn't one to go out much -much less in the noon when the sun swore to burn my skin away - so it was just an impression. There were a few children engaging in games, too busy messing with each other to care about some plain guy hysterically running around -- and a few preoccupied middle ages more than ready to bite my head off if I dared steal one second longer from them.
I felt rather than knew that I needed to halt for a breather when my legs started to give out and my throat kept burning awfully as an affereffect of heavy panting. I set my eyes on the low concrete wall surrounding an expanse garden belonging to a famous old couple. I couldn't find it in me to look for a more comfortable alternative and practically threw myself on it.
Correcting my respiration surprisingly demanded more time than to get used to the soreness in my legs. My throat hurted like a bitch and all I could focus on except the very pain was the memories of Lear. When I looked back on them, it was impossible to notice how little time we spent together. The words we exchanged were as short as a everday conversation you'd have with a stranger. Yet there was nothing more clear than Lear's voice in my head. And I craved him like I craved nothing else, like we'd been seperated after spending a lifetime together. It was weird. But it also felt so natural it confused me.
So you don't know where the lake ends?
I recalled Lear's words from last night as I progressed through the memories. I'd thought he was acting a bit weird, but been too distracted to delve deeper into it. Now I could only clench my fists tighter and let the irksome feeling sink in deep inside.
Lear was there -the conviction got stronger and stronger- and I had to go after him. Find him and...
Whatever it is,
I shrugged and ascended to my two feet. I pressed a fist firmly on my chest and drummed my heart lightly.
Albeit restless, I knew better than to over-rush and miss Lear on the way. So I remained observant after passing the mini-bridge, which bespoke the limit of my knowledge of the area.
I trailed the scorched land beside the lake to the right, a few feet apart from where faint grass was scattered along the way. A further scrutiny was tempting save all the warning signs and memories of ill omen. I did steal glances at the clear surface of the water (what if Lear was there?) but never long enough to see deeper.
To the left was a wide, empty extension of the land beneath my own two feet -- until it reached a woodland far away. What stood further away was curious, but the situation didn't call for cheap curiosity. Ergo I diverted the attention and focused straight on the way laying before me.
After a good fifteen minutes of advancing straight, the path I'd been following gained a approximately ninety degrees curve and it occurred to me that perhaps the lake ended where the woodland began. The more I run-walked, the stronger my suspicions became and the frequent glances of lake showed it was indeed getting shallower while the woods were in close sight.
Came the end of the lake, yet Lear was nowhere to be-
My stomach twisted into a tight knot when I saw an outwardly lifeless body laying on the coast. It looked too much like Lear but it didn't keep me from praying it wasn't until I reached there.
The next time I exhaled was when I dropped to my knees and checked for a pulse on Lear's neck.
He's alive.
He was too pale to allow any kind of relief registering into my insides. His soaked clothes and wet skin betrayed it couldn't have been too long since he was in the lake. I worried over the possibility he'd swallowed much water but his breathing seemed fine so I held back from delivering rescue breaths.
I don't know how long I'd waited for Lear to regain consciousness but it sure felt everything but short. Everytime I thought his eyelids were moving, about to rouse, I'd called his name and shook him repeatedly but it was in vain. He looked like he was sleeping a normal sleep, yet he didn't even make a sound at what normal people would at least jerk. I couldn't rouse him-he needed to wake up himself-, that dawned on me at some point and I settled on waiting stock-still.
When Lear finally opened his eyes I wasn't sure if I should've been relieved, because the look on his eyes were void of something that should've been there. It didn't change significantly when he saw and recognized me, but I saw a desperate plea of help. Timid but desperate. It was there.
"Why are you here?" Lear said at last, after the countless times I asked if he was okay. "I told you to stay away from the lake. Are you stupid?"
"I-" I couldn't help the taken aback expression -probably- spreading on my face. The harsh way he articulated the words didn't take me by surprise as much as his eyes did, however it was highly concerning and unsettling. "I'm glad I came."
Lear didn't say anything but averted his gaze slightly.
"I can't make much sense of all," I said just about firmly. "But I know it is better to be in danger together than see you like this."
Lear shifted slightly and the conviction I held for my words deepened.
"Talk to me, Lear." I said softly, cupping his cheek with a hand. Lear's eyes moistened and he blocked them from my view with an arm over them.
"I can't do this alone anymore." He sobbed brokenly. "I need you back."
A heavy ball of distress clenched in my stomach.
"I don't know if we can bring back your-" I lowered my voice hesitantly. "Lost lover but I can help you if there is anything I can."
"What?" Lear ruefully snorted as he wiped his eyes onto his arm. "There is no lost lover. It's you."
I returned a confused look. "What is me?"
"I lost you to the lake." He said, this time looking into my eyes. "Your memories. I lost you when the lake took them away."
My confusion grew second by second and Lear was, I assumed, quickly aware of it. Because he cut me off before I demanded elaboration.
"Help me sit up?" He asked and I did that. The way he leaned on my shoulder dependently spoke volumes about the lack of vigor and power in his condition, and maybe a bit of something else. Maybe.